What Is And What Should Never Be
by Angel-Hunteress
Summary: AU. S3 arc. What might it have been like had Gabriel been born and raised as a Petrelli? Will he still become Sylar, the villan? Or will there be another villan, much worse? How would it have affected the world? Various pairings. CHAPTER 5 FINALLY UP!
1. Prologue

A/N: **(Update: 1/17/08)** Hi, everyone...again!

As some of you have probably noticed, I deleted the old story and reposted it. I didn't want to 'Cheat reviews' and rather, I wanted to have a new story with its own reviews.

I wasn't happy with the direction the story was going, so I completely revamped it. This chapter isn't much different from the original, but there are some minor corrections that I thought were necessary.

Once again, I am SO sorry to all of my previous reviewers/fans for changing it on you, but I figured it was best to do it now, rather than either later in the show/story or have an out-of-control story.

So, here's the new and improved 'What Is and What Should Never Be.'

This is actually the first story I've ever really cared about enough to plan out before hand. BTW, the last part is set some-what in the 'I Am Become Death' verse.

Hope ya'll like it!

* * *

1980  
THE COMPANY

_I can't do this. But it's the only way._

The ground materialized under him, and he fell out of shock, unfamiliar with this new power. It was his first time using it, and hopefully the last.

He stood up as the disorientation began to recede, leaving bloody handprints on the bright white tile. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He didn't know _exactly_ where he had teleported-hopefully, though, the _general_ 'where' and most importantly the 'when' were accurate.

After seeing the testing rooms, with high-tech surveillance cameras that wouldn't be 'invented' to the general public for a least another decade-he surmised that this was Level 3 of The Company. He was not surprised she was here-after all, he had only to concentrate on her and the year to teleport to her location-because, of course, this was where it all had started, and subsequently, where it all ended.

"_It should've been me."_

The last few minutes before he teleported here kept resurfacing, and it took him almost all of his control to suppress them. For now. He had a mission to do first, then he would be able to grieve later.

The traveler closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds, extending his range more than that of a normal human. He listened to every sound that was made in the Company, overbearing at first, and then honed it in to only this level.

The sounds he heard were magnified tenfold as he searched the Level with his hearing; he could hear his own rapid heartbeat and the blood flowing through his veins, accompanied by a large amount of adrenaline. He focused outward, hearing the loud and steady hum of the fluorescent lights above, the steady drip of a bathroom sink from farther down the corridor, a heart monitor from the other side...

And then, voices.

There were two that caught his attention, and he shut out the other noises. He listened in, concentrating on his stabilizing the ability. A man and a woman speaking, neither one familiar. He could hear movement, and the heartbeats of three people. Two beating at a steady pace, the other beating rapidly, as if scared.

The man and the woman themselves were of no consequence, and he would have concentrated elsewhere had he not heard the subject of their conversation. But the subject of which they were speaking was very relevant to his mission, so relevant in fact...

The third person spoke, a woman's familiar voice. His heart quickened with relief and anticipation at her words. "Excuse me. I need to be alone to make my decision."

He heard the man and the first woman leave, and, very reluctantly, once again used his ability to teleport inside the room.

The woman inside did not see him, as she was sitting on a round conference table, her head buried in her delicate hands, her slender fingers weaving through the front of her dark-haired up-do. She cradled her face with worry, and he wished he could be able to reach out and comfort her.

_I can't do this_.

It wasn't his voice, his memories, he realized, but her thoughts. The words echoing the painful last minutes that had run through his head caused his throat to close and his whole body to freeze. Perhaps he would stay paralyzed forever, changing nothing.

The woman sighed with resolve, sitting back up, and smoothed the bun back neatly in place, and then smoothed her black business pencil skirt.

She stood, her posture emanating a feeling of civility and coolness, but most importantly, confidence. She began making her way to the door to inform the others of her decision when he gathered the courage to speak.

"Don't do it, Angela," he stated calmly.

Her hand froze, hovering inches above the silver door handle. She stopped in her tracks and abruptly spun around, startled. "Who are you? You don't work for the Company."

His grave expression did not falter. "Who I am doesn't matter. I came here to stop you from making a big mistake."

She offered him a smile which revealed nothing except intimidation and authority. "And what that might that be?"

Her demeanor was cool and collected, but time traveler knew her too well to know that it was only a facade, and that inside she was confused, maybe even scared.

"Giving up your son."

Her smile wavered and her eyes narrowed. "How could you possibly-"

"I have a message from the future. Your children are the key to saving the world. Without them together, there _is_ no future."

Angela Petrelli's face hardened into the stoic mask he was familiar with. "If you know me from the future then you must know about my ability," she began, her voice emotionless. He nodded as he opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "I've seen what the future holds if I keep my sons together. They are capable of destroying the world if provoked. This is the best solution to ensure their safety."

"It's not," the traveler assured her. "Others who possess the abilities to travel through time continually alter the timelines. We tried everything but we thought..."

_"Think of this as payback."_

_"I'm sorry..."_

He regained his posture and cleared his mind, doing his best to act like a true member of The Company. He would have time to be himself later. "We believed that this alternate timeline would stay strong if the two most powerful people shared a...stronger bond. This way, any alterations to the timeline would have a much weaker impact and the world would have a stronger survival rate."

"And who are you to play God?" she argued. "If what you say is true and the world keeps getting destroyed no matter how you change it, then perhaps it's something that is _meant_ to happen, regardless of our efforts to stop it."

"_Us _play God? Who are _you _to alter the DNA of infants and give them powers and experiment on them? On your own son!"

_Nathan doesn't have the gene._

Her shocked voice once again invaded his mind, and he knew immediately what it was he was hearing. This was getting out of hand; he had just said too much.

"What we are doing is for the good of the world," Angela replied, her eyes filled with anger.

He had never seen her show such emotion in a conversation and was taken aback by surprise. He wondered what had turned this young, human woman into a cold, emotionless boss. He saw a mother, scared for her children. Giving up one, and being almost forced to experiment on another. What he had seen in his time were only remnants of this woman and very few times had he even seen _that_. Seeing her like this unnerved him greatly.

He lowered his voice, speaking evenly and calmly. "If you're right...if the world is supposed to be destroyed no matter what we do, then what harm would separating your sons do?"

A shadow crossed her face and she fixed her gaze on him. "What I do with my children are my choices. I don't care _what_ time you're from, but I _won't _have a stranger tell me how to raise my sons!"

She turned around to exit through the dark brown door, but as she reached to the door handle, he caught her wrist.

His vision changed around him in an explosion, a connection that he knew she felt, his newly acquired telepathy forcing the most recent memories he had been trying to suppress for so long to resurface.

_He held the crystal ornament up, swinging down hard on Brian Davis' head. Using the sharp tip of the ornament, he began to slice open the man's head._

_He pinned the man to the wall in his own apartment, slicing his head open. It was a feeling that was so good, and he couldn't wait to be able to shoot things with just two fingers..._

_The woman stood in front of her daughter, a little girl of maybe eight or nine. He used his mind to impale the woman with the kitchen utensils, taking her freezing power while the little girl ran to her father. Before the man even stood up from the breakfast table, he was frozen. By the time the brain was removed, the little girl was gone._

_He swung open the diner door, smirking at the waitress' naive stature. Before she even knew what happened, her head was already sliced off._

_He had the cheerleader pinned against the lockers, slicing her head off. Until he looked and saw the that other one, who he swore had been killed before, got up and ran, the healing herself. _

The connection began to weaken around them, the room shifting back to itself for a split second, before being replaced by new images: the last minutes of his own time.

_So much blood, everywhere, staining the gray concrete._

_He watched as another man, the source of the blood, gasped for air as he lay on the pavement, dying. The traveler knelt down next to the dying man, expertly removing the sharp knife protruding out of the back of his skull._

Again, the connection weakened, skipping.

_A blond girl looked at the traveler in disgust, watching the dying man. "Think of this as payback."_

Again, the connection jumped, nearly severed now, but one image remained.

_The traveler raised his hand inches from the dying man's head, holding out his index and middle fingers as if pointing out an imperfection on the dying man's forehead. Unleashing a familiar power in a familiar action, his telekinesis began to saw through the bleeding man's skin and bone, cutting open the skull in a neat circle, until the top fell off._

_More blood seeped from the hole which revealed the grayish-pink matter that was once his brother's brain._

_The traveler turned the body so that the brain was directly in front of him and dove his hands in._

The connection severed and the traveler stumbled back in shock, catching his breath from the intensity.

Angela was now facing him, catching her breath as well.

Once they were both calmer, she approached him, taking his still-bloody hands in hers. He could feel her fear emanating from her, and he didn't need powers to sense that.

She was doing everything not to tremble, he could tell.

"Who are you?" she asked, looking into his eyes.

"Look at me," he replied. "I think you already know."

She held his gaze, searching, until her eyes grew wide with realization.

She took his hands in hers once again, running her fingers lightly over the dried blood.

"That's our blood-my son's blood," she half-whispered. She recoiled from him, dropping his hands. "What did we turn you into?"

He didn't answer-_couldn't_ answer.

Angela regained her composure-at least, as much as she could. "If I choose not to give him up, you know there will be no future for you to go back to. A change like this will irreparably change the timeline. You may cease to exist as the person you are right now. Are you prepared for that?"

There was no hesitation. "Yes."

She stood up fully, smoothing out her skirt once again. "Very well. I have made my decision."

She turned around once more to exit the doorway, but he stopped her once again.

"Wait," he said, quietly. She stopped in her tracks. "Why Gabriel?"

Her arms dropped to her sides and she turned toward him, giving a sad smile. "Gabriel's power wouldn't manifest unless a certain action occurred. Peter's, on the other hand, would come at any time and we knew that without supervision, he would be a danger to us all. Peter seemed the more dangerous out of the two. Apparently, we were wrong."

Upon noticing the traveler's expression, Angela wrapped him in her arms, kissing him lightly on the cheek in a motherly fashion. He felt comforted despite the fact that he was almost ten years older than her in age at this very moment.

"Cain murdered his brother for a sacrifice," she whispered. "All for a greater plan. You may not be so different."

She pulled away, then turned back to the door, exiting.

He let her go, watching as she turned toward the other two before the door closed behind her.

"I've made my choice and I am keeping my sons together." Her voice was crisp and even through the door, though slightly muffled.

"Very well," the man replied. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Petrelli, ma'am."

There were more sounds-two pairs of footsteps leaving. After a pause, the last person left, but not without a message to him first.

_Thank you, Gabriel._

_...  
_

_Everyone was dead._

_Parkman died shortly after the Costa Verde explosion, in a retaliation attack on Homeland Security that was led by angry radicals who wanted to eliminate evolved humans completely. With he and Daphne gone, Molly was left in the care of Peter and Gabriel._

_Hiro was trapped somewhere in the future, powerless. He was a great threat to Nathan's 'side,' and therefore the first to experience the 'Helix Treatment,' a drug that stripped an evolved human's powers permanently._

_Mohinder and Maya had reconciled and were together, but Mohinder was forced to perfect the Helix Treatment, since Nathan's people had captured Maya, using her for leverage. In an almost-successful attempt to escape, both were killed._

_Bennet died after the explosion as well, attempting to talk his daughter out of the side she had chosen. By Nathan's orders, Claire shot and killed her adoptive father._

_The only ones to survive so far that had been there when it all began were Peter, Gabriel, Nathan, Tracy, Claire and Knox._

_Primatech was no longer a 'Company.' Rather, the name was synonymous in the media with terms like 'terrorist group' and 'radicals.'_

_Peter and Gabriel were now partners under Primatech, the two being the best defense and offense that the group had to offer. From the hardships through the years that the two faced, the brothers became closer, now even friends._

_The sharp and painful burst of electricity made Gabriel's whole body tense up while his back felt as if he were being pummeled by a ton of bricks multiple times, bringing him back to reality. He doubled over from Claire's taser as he heard the click of a gun._

_He and Peter were fighting side-by-side against Claire and Knox. The care for their niece made it hard to hurt Claire, and often the four would leave at a stalemate._

_The click of the gun distracted Peter, who turned around to stop Claire from shooting Gabriel. As Peter stretched out his arm to telekinetically remove the gun from Claire's hand, Knox used Peter fear to ram a Pinehearst-issued knife into the back of Peter's skull._

_"Peter!" Gabriel shouted, standing up to rush to Peter's side._

_Gabriel knelt down next to Peter, removing the knife. Peter ripped out a loud scream of pain as a pool of blood streamed out onto the gray concrete._

_"Peter, heal," Gabriel urged as Peter squeezed his eyes shut in pain. "Heal!"_

_"He can't," Knox told him with a triumphant smile. "That knife's full of Helix Treatment. He ain't got powers."_

_"What's left of his immune system will shut down completely," Claire told him, her voice emotionless. "The good news is he'll die fast."_

_"No." Gabriel turned back to Peter, seeing the pool of blood growing larger, and Peter's breathing becoming more shallow._

_"Your fear is amazing," Knox said, taking a deep breath as he raised the knife. "I got this one, Claire-"_

_"No." Claire's face was unreadable as she watched Peter gasping for breath. "Peter's dead. That's all we need."_

_"Gabriel..." Peter's voice was shallow, a plea._

_Gabriel turned back to Claire, tears beginning to form in his eyes. "Why not me? After everything I did to you...it should've been me."_

_"Gabe..."_

_Claire gave a dark smirk, one that painfully reminded Gabriel of his days as Sylar. "I need to kill one of you as a message to Primatech that we're not to be messed with. Let's go, Knox."_

_She turned around the leave the alley, taser in hand. As Gabriel turned back to Peter, Claire shouted one more thing to him over her shoulder._

_"Think of this as payback. We're even," she told him. "Uncle Sylar."_

_Gabriel knelt over Peter, tears beginning to fall. "Peter...we were supposed to be immortal."_

_"Gabe..."_

_The word was barely audible. Gabriel quickly lifted his head, seeing Peter looking at him weakly._

_"Peter, what-?" He leaned in close to him, trying to hear whatever his brother was saying._

_"Use...Hiro's...power..."_

_Gabriel shook his head. "But I don't..." He stopped as he caught Peter's eyes. "But you do."_

_He took Peter's hand, concentrating. After absorbing Elle's electricity empathically, he learned how to absorb others' abilities the same way. Of course, that way only worked if he knew and understood the people._

_But..._

_"It's not working," Gabriel told him, not releasing his brother's hand. "The Helix Treatment?"_

_Peter nodded, whispering something that Gabriel didn't quite catch. There were tears forming in Peter's eyes._

_Gabriel leaned down, asking Peter to repeat it._

_"Brain."_

_"No!" Gabriel shouted. "I can't. No."_

_"Fix...past...bro...thers..."_

_"Peter-"_

_And Gabriel understood what it was Peter was asking. To take Peter's powers. and use Hiro's power to...to what?_

Fix past...brothers.

_To fix the past. Fix them, the family._

_He understood._

_"Sorry...Gabri..."_

_He realized why there were tears in Peter's eyes. Not from the pain or from dying, but for Gabriel, because Peter knew that the only way to fix this..._

_Would be to take Peter's abilities, though the brain._

_With an exhale, Peter died, his eyes closing._

_A single tear fell as Gabriel raised two trembling fingers to Peter's forehead, taking a deep breath as he looked at his brother._

_"I'm sorry, too, Peter," Gabriel said, before he began to telekinetically make the incision on his brother's forehead._

_As he did the unthinkable to his brother, he imagined what it would be like if he had been a Petrelli._

_Maybe Peter would be able to call him his brother._

Three days after the conversation with Angela Petrelli, Sylar-Gabriel Gray-ceased to exist.

* * *

A/N: Again, it could've been better. Oh well. I hope everyone liked the new and improved version!

And a little note: This is in the 'I Am Become Death' 'verse if you didn't get that. Or, at least, what it would've been had Past!Peter not come to the IABD verse. I guess. Oh, well.

I really like Lil' Noah. I think I should have him in the story later (hint hint).

And ZQ is TOTALLY _MY _hero.

**Update 1/19/09: **(Screw February...)

Happy Inauguration Day people! (even though I'm not an Obama _lover_ per-say, I think anything's better than the last president. And he's pretty cool, in my opinion. Mostly cuz he's from Chicago :D


	2. 1x1 Genesis

A/N: I just wanted to say how much I appreciated you guys for sticking around for all this XD.

Rawr. To the people who really really **really** hated Kaitlyn: IT WAS ELLE! (seriously.)...Just...FYI.

And _because_ of that little...tidbit (and because I REALLY love the Syelle pairing, ELLE WILL MAKE HER FIRST APPEARANCE IN THIS EPISODE! AND THE NEXT! But...don't be expecting her _too_ much after that...well...nevermind. :D)

Anyway.

Thank you to my reviewers of the **_new_** WIAWSNB, like **Mr. Harelip**, **BlueDragon007**, **Kathryn Shadow**, **EternalCrush**, **hana g**, **ame**, **cherryblu**. And also, I wanna thank my viewers/alerters/favoriters. Ya'll are awesome!

**Important note:** I will not be adding any OCs to this story. I feel that the last one started getting kinda...clogged up with them. HOWEVER, perhaps later as the timeline is REALLY altered, I may add in one or two.

**Another important note: **Quite honestly? I really do not like Simone with Peter. If anything, she's good with Isaac. But I don't want my biased opinions to get in the way of the show. After all, I'm not sure if Peter having Gabriel around would change his opinion of Simone, not have him sleep with her and thus not ruin her character from fangirl jealousy... (including mine). What's your opinion?

**Also:** There aren't a whole lot of changes to this episode/chapter from the old WIAWSNB. There are a few tiny corrections/additions, but nothing real important within the scenes themselves. HOWEVER, there IS a new scene added, so please read it. :D

Btw, I assure you that after this episode, it will start changing.

Update 2/2/09: DID YOU GUYS SEE HEROES TONIGHT? Woah. And what's up with Peter's powers now? It seems like he's got the same power as his father only he doesn't take their powers. I thought he didn't have to necessarily touch them in order to get their power. And I think I've heard that Sylar's father is supposed to be played by John Glover, the guy that plays Lionel Luthor in Smallville. Is that true? And...is that his real father? I REALLY wanted him to be a Petrelli (if that wasn't obvious enough) Gr...And did you see the Super Bowl last night? It had a commercial of ZQ as Spock for the new Star Trek movie. Squee!

* * *

**Genesis**

_Where does it come from this quest?  
This need to solve life's mysteries, when the simplest of questions can never be answered.  
Why are we here? What is the soul? Why do we dream?  
Perhaps we'd be better off not looking at all.  
Not delving, not yearning. That's not our nature.  
Not the human heart. That is not why we're here._

_...  
_

_He stood on the rooftop of the building, the front of his shoes off the edge. Though he knew the slightest change in wind could push him off the building, he was not afraid._

_As if walking, he stepped off the ledge, falling toward the streets of New York City._

_But before he fell, something seemed to catch him in midair. Or not something, he realized as he began to ascend, turning through the buildings._

_It was him. He was flying._

_He felt free; this was so exhilarating. This was what he had been waiting for his whole life. The special ability, this uniqueness. This was what he had been waiting for-_

And it was all over when he jolted awake.

...

PETER PETRELLI & SIMONE DEVEAUX  
NEW YORK CITY

Peter jumped, awake. He looked up from his chair where he had been dreaming, seeing the door open. The beeping of the heart monitor and respirator brought him back to reality quickly.

It seemed so real...

A tall woman entered, beautiful, with light brown skin and dark hair. Her hair reflected the sunlight from outside, giving her a glow.

She walked in, placing her keys on the small table, looking at him. The newspaper he had been reading before he had fallen asleep was still on his lap, opened to the Stocks section. He never particularly cared much about those kinds of things, but it seemed comforting and Mr. Deveaux had always seemed to enjoy them when he was awake.

He placed the newspaper on the bedcovers in front of his chair, brushing his scrubs lightly.

He looked up at the woman, who smiled.

"I'm sorry," she said as she began removing her coat. "Did I scare you?"

"No," Peter replied as he watched her approach her father's bed. "No, I, uh, I keep having these amazing dreams every time I close my eyes..."

He caught the look on her face, and knew that this wasn't the appropriate time to be talking about his dreams, not when her father's declining health was of greater concern. "Never mind."

She glanced at the newspaper, looking up at him wonderingly. He shrugged. "He likes me to read him the stock page."

"Has he been conscious at all?" she asked as he stood up, stretching and realizing just how uncomfortable that chair could be.

"No," Peter replied, and felt bad about telling her this sad news. "It's been almost a week now. I think he's close. A couple more days, maybe."

He watched as she looked at her dying father, and he was painfully reminded of his own, who had died only a short while ago. Though he never really _liked _his father all that much for everything he did, he was still family and he had to admit that his family began drifting apart after the manipulative man died.

"You know," Simone began. "I don't know what he'd do without you. You have a real gift."

Peter shrugged. "Just doing my job."

"No, you're like a son to him," Simone told him.

"Well, then, that'd make us brother and sister. It might be kind of awkward if I wanted to ask you out," he said, giving a smile.

Simone didn't smile back, and he cursed his mouth that spoke before his brain caught up to it. He always did that: spoke his mind without thinking. Usually, it got him in a lot of trouble. And just what was he thinking, saying something like _that_ to her while her father was dying in front of her?

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "That was inappropriate."

"No," she replied, her tone just as awkward. "It's-it's sweet. It's-I'm dating somebody and-"

"Yeah, no, really," he assured her. "It's...okay." There was a pause as he wondered how he could possibly make things even _worse._ He decided to change the subject. "I...I have to change his IV."

She stepped back from him, from her father's bed as Peter grabbed a new IV bag. Her cheeks were slightly redder than normal from embarrassment and she turned to walk away. "I'm sorry. Of course."

...

MOHINDER SURESH  
MADRAS, INDIA  
3 DAYS AGO

"Man is a narcissistic species by nature. We have colonized the four corners of our tiny planet. But we are not the pinnacle of so-called evolution."

Mohinder Suresh was giving his lecture to his students about evolution. It was a hard class to teach, and perhaps an even harder class to learn. He knew his theories were radical, apart from the norm, and based off his father's research more than anything else.

The room was hot and stuffy, save for two small and slowly rotating fans. The kids seemed bored, tired, and he had to admit, so was he. He had been giving these theories day in and day out without much proof.

"The honor belongs to the lowly cockroach," he continued. "Capable of living for months without food, remaining alive headless for weeks at a time, resistant to radiation. If God has indeed created himself in his own image, then I submit to you that God is a cockroach."

There were a few sparse chuckles from the room.

"They say that man only uses a tenth of his brain power," Mohinder continued. "Another percent, and we might actually be worthy of God's image. Unless, of course, that day has already arrived. The Human Genome Project has discovered that tiny variations in man's genetic code are taking place at increasingly rapid rates. Teleportation, levitation, tissue regeneration. Is this outside the realm of possibility? Or is man entering a new gateway to evolution? Is he finally standing at the threshold to true human potential?"

He looked up, seeing his friend Nirand by the door. He stopped. "I'm sorry, I'm out of time."

The students stood and began filing out of the room.

"I know, I know," Mohinder told him, seeing the way that his friend was looking at him. "I'm beginning to sound like my father. I can't help it. You know, they can fire me too, if they like. But there is something to it, Nirand. As crazy as it sounds."

_He saw his friend's face fall at the mention of his father, and suspected something was very wrong._

_"What is it?" Mohinder asked._

_"It's...your father," Nirand said. "He's dead."_

_Mohinder was stunned. No..."How?"_

"Mohinder?" Nirand's voice cut him out of his thoughts.

Nirand was still by the door, looking at Mohinder as if he were crazy.

"How?" Mohinder asked.

Nirand narrowed his gaze. "How, what?"

"H-how did my father die?"

Nirand looked at his friend once again, his eyes narrowing. "Mohinder, I was asking you if you would like to get out of here, get something to eat. Your father isn't dead."

Mohinder was stunned. It had felt so real...what was that? He decided it was just the pressure of work, and the heat getting to him. Definitely the heat. Yet something kept gnawing at him...

He looked back up at Nirand, who was waiting patiently. "Y-yes, of course. Come on."

As they exited the building, the two both got out their umbrellas, preparing for the heavy rain.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Nirand asked.

"It's just all the work," Mohinder admitted. "I'll be fine once I get readjusted."

_"Driving a taxi in the middle of New York's a dangerous job," Nirand told him. "The wrong fare, the wrong time, we may never know what really happened."_

_"No," Mohinder argued. "I spoke to him two days ago. He was convinced someone was following him, trying to steal his research. He died because of his theories."_

_Nirand stopped in the street and Mohinder followed suit. "That's crazy."_

_"Is it?" Mohinder asked._

_"The man left his family-discredited his career to chase wild theories halfway around the world!" Nirand stopped, not wanting to get into this argument again. Mohinder stopped, turning the corner and began to hurry. "Where are you going?"_

"What?" asked Mohinder as a hand grabbed his shoulder. He turned to see Nirand.

"I asked 'where are you going?' The place is that way," Nirand gestured toward a small restaurant across the street.

Mohinder was stunned, as reality seemed to shift around him once again. What was happening to him? Why was he hallucinating? And why about his father's death?

Maybe...

"I have to go to my father's apartment, get his research, his papers. He was close to finding the first of 'them'-his patient zero. He tracked it down to Queens, New York," Mohinder explained. "I think he's trying to tell me something."

"What?" Nirand asked, skepticism evident in his voice.

"That he's in danger."

...

PETER PETRELLI  
NEW YORK CITY

_He was on the rooftop again, on the ledge. It was the same rooftop he had been on many times, high above the city._

_He spread his arms out wide, leaning forward as he fell off the building._

_He began to fly, feeling the wind against him, the exhilarating feeling of control. He was flying through the buildings, through trees, above the streets._

_A hand touched his, and he looked up to see another man, a very familiar one, his same age. They were both flying._

_And then abruptly, the hand let go, and Peter was falling toward the ground. His power was no longer there, taken by the other man._

_The ground was coming closely, and he could make out a figure below._

_It was a man, another familiar one, looking up at him._

_..._

A car horn blared, waking him up with a jolt.

He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was in backseat of a taxi cab. A bus pulled up beside him, a familiar face on a familiar banner on its side. It was the man from his dream, the one on the ground. _NATHAN PETRELLI FOR CONGRESS_.

A small smile graced his lips as his brother's smiling face seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was reassuring that his brother was doing so well, no matter what Nathan said.

It reminded him of his dream.

He dug into his pocket to find his phone.

"You get out here, yes?" asked the taxi driver in broken English.

He looked around, noticing his whereabouts for the first time. He nodded, giving the taxi driver the money and slid to the other side of the seat, getting out through the other door.

He walked down the streets, taking his phone out and dialing a number.

It rang three times, and then went to the answering machine.

_"Hi, you've reached Dr. Petrelli; I'm not here right now. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you. _Beep!"

"Hey, Gabe, it's me," Peter began. "I've been...look, I'm going to see Nathan right now. Just call me back as soon as you can. I really need to talk to you."

He ended the call, putting the phone back into his pocket as he approached the Petrelli Campaign Headquarters. He opened the double doors, walking toward the familiar office, finally spotting Nathan through the glass windows. He was on the phone. He looked up, noticing Peter.

He looked back to the phone, hurrying up to finish. "Mr. Linderman, I'm gonna have to call you back in five minutes, okay? Thank you."

He hung up, indicating for Peter to enter, which he did. He gave Peter a look, which Peter recognized.

"I'm late," Nathan began, walking past him to grab his suitcase. "I've got a fundraiser and a drinks-meeting."

"It happened two more times," Peter started. "Sometimes I'm falling. Sometimes I'm flying. Sometimes Gabriel's there...sometimes you're there."

Nathan grabbed his suitcase, edging around Peter and giving an exasperated sigh. "I don't have time for this now. Why don't you call Gabriel about this? He's good at all this...dream stuff."

He began walking down through the offices, Peter falling in step next to him. "They're not just dreams, Nathan."

Nathan stuck out his briefcase to Peter, a file in his other hand. "Hold this."

He walked over to a worker, giving them the file. "Tim, I need this by 6:00, please."

Nathan turned, not waiting for Peter and began to put his coat back on. Peter continued, "This morning, when I got out of bed, my foot hovered before it hit the ground."

Nathan stopped at a desk, taking a clipboard from a woman. He glanced at it, not saying anything back. Peter continued, hurriedly. "_Hovered_ for a split second. Like I was-like I was _floating_. I'm telling you, buddy, I think I can fly."

Nathan looked up at the woman, knowing that she overheard. He gave an embarrassed smile, and tried to cover it up by changing the subject. "These all undecideds?"

She nodded, giving an 'mm-hmm' as her answer. He gave the clipboard back, and then walked toward the exit. He smiled at Peter, humoring him. "Tell you what. You think you can fly, why don't you jump off the Brooklyn Bridge?"

Peter didn't catch the sarcasm, but crossed the Brooklyn Bridge off his mental list. "Maybe I ought to start with something a little lower first. It's like learning how to walk."

Nathan almost stopped. "You're serious?"

"Oh, I'm serious."

Nathan put an arm around Peter's shoulders, worry clear on his face. "You need to snap out of this, Peter. Why don't you see Gabriel? Tell him to give you something. But do _not _pull a Roger Clinton on me, man. I'm eight points down in the polls."

"I tried calling him already," Peter admitted. "I left him a message. I'll go see him next, but I don't need help. Look, something's going on with me, and I have this feeling that you two are the only ones who can help me."

"Why the hell would I understand that you think you can fly?" Nathan asked incredulously and his cell phone rang.

Peter gave a _duh_ look. "Because you're my brother."

Nathan answered. "Hello?-Gabe, I can't really talk...What?...All right, I'll be there in ten minutes."

Peter looked at his older brother questioningly. "What is it?"

"It's Mom. She was arrested," Nathan replied, giving an exasperated sigh.

"Arrested for what?"

"Shoplifting," the older replied, going to his car. Peter followed, rolling his eyes.

...

ANGELA, GABRIEL, NATHAN & PETER PETRELLI  
NEW YORK CITY POLICE STATION

Peter walked in with Nathan, spotting his other brother Gabriel sitting across the table from his mother, who had her back toward the two. Gabriel looked up, standing as Peter and Nathan entered the room.

"For God sakes, Ma," Nathan said, rolling his eyes in distaste as Peter kissed his mother on the cheek.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked.

"They dropped the charges," their mother replied. "I have to fill out a form. No big deal."

"_No big deal_?" Nathan almost shouted. "I'm running for Congress! Do you have any idea what this is going to do to me if it gets out, with our family's past? What could you have possibly needed so much that you had to steal it?"

Angela met Gabriel's eyes, her eyes wide. Nathan noticed this, looking at his youngest brother.

"You know what? I don't even want to know," Nathan said.

"Socks," Angela confessed.

"Socks," Nathan repeated incredulously. "Dad left you a fortune! What are you thinking? You know, it's been one ridiculous stunt after another with you for the last six months."

"Leave her alone," Gabriel defended. "She's still upset over losing Dad. Some people are prone to show reckless behavior after losing a loved one. She's still grieving."

Nathan looked at his mother, who didn't say anything. Peter was holding her hand and Gabriel was standing on her other side. He felt ganged up on. Still, he held his ground, holding her gaze. "Dad's gone. Get over it."

"You know what?" Peter asked, glaring at him. "Leave her alone. She's okay. That's all that matters."

Nathan looked between his brothers, knowing neither would be on his side on this. He let out a defeated sigh.

"I gotta get this out of the press," he said as he got out his cell phone.

Peter's face hardened as he got up, opening the door. "Fine. Get out. Go worry about your image. We'll handle this."

Gabriel looked between the two, quiet, realizing that there was more to this argument than just the current conversation.

Nathan looked defiantly at his other brother. "Yeah, good. I gotta make sure this stays buried. Thanks a lot, Mom."

He began toward the door, clapping Gabriel on the shoulder. "I'd look out for him if I were you."

And before his brother could respond, Nathan left. Gabriel turned his attention to his twin. "What was that about?"

"It's nothing," Peter replied, too quickly. He caught the raised eyebrow Gabriel was giving him. He shrugged, and then quickly glanced at their mother. "Look, I'll tell you about it later."

...

After walking their mother out, Peter and Gabriel walked alongside each other through the New York City streets.

"You called earlier, right?" Gabriel asked. "I was already on my way over when I heard your message."

"It's nothing," Peter replied curtly. He was still obviously upset at Nathan.

Gabriel stopped him, placing a hand on Peter's shoulder and looking at him worriedly. "Peter, I'm your brother. You can tell me."

Peter didn't respond, instead he began to walk again. Gabriel persisted. "Is it the dreams again?"

"You wouldn't understand, okay?" Peter snapped.

"Peter-"

"They're not just dreams...they're...I don't know how to explain it. They seem so real, and I...I think I can fly," Peter told him.

Gabriel sighed. "Why don't you come by my office later? I won't charge."

"I'm _not_ crazy," Peter replied, stopping in his tracks. "I knew you would be the last one to believe me."

Gabriel stopped, gripping Peter gently by the shoulders. "Okay. For the sake of argument, say you can really fly. What then, Peter? Are you gonna save the world? Save people from dying? You can't save everyone, Peter. Not Dad, not your patients. You can't always be a hero."

"This isn't about Dad, okay?" Peter argued. "This is about something that's real, and it's happening to me. And more than that, I think it involves the three of us. You, me, Nathan...I think we might be all part of some bigger picture."

"Peter...do you want my honest opinion?"

"You means as a brother or as a psychiatrist?" he retorted.

Gabriel sighed. "Both." He paused. "I think you're still upset over Dad's death. People have different ways of dealing with grief. Mom steals socks, Nathan immerses himself in his work, and you...you want to be someone else, a hero."

"And what's your way of dealing? Dissecting people's brains? I...Look, something's happening, Gabe. Something big. I can feel it."

Gabriel said nothing as the two resumed their walking. They continued in silence, until Gabriel decided to break it, a slight smirk on his face. They never could remain mad at each other for a long time. "So...how's Simone? You guys playing 'Nurse, Patient' yet?"

Peter smiled, giving a playful whack across Gabriel's chest as they walked.

...

MOHINDER SURESH  
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

_"Oh, yeah, I was really sorry to hear about your father. Seemed like a good guy."_

_The super of the apartment his father had been staying at hadn't been cleaned out yet, which Mohinder was grateful for. He opened the door for Mohinder, revealing an extremely messy place. It had been ransacked._

_"Man," the super started. "I thought I was a slob."_

_"They were here, too," Mohinder observed, remembering the man on the phone back in India._

_"What?" asked the super._

_Mohinder realized he had thought out loud. He dropped his duffel bag, walking further into the apartment. "Nothing."_

_"I got a guy who can clean this up for a hundred bucks," the super offered._

_Mohinder spotted a map of the world, one with names and thumbtacks. The evolved humans his father had tracked down._

_"No, I'll take it as it is," Mohinder replied._

"It isn't much," the super told him, and the room shifted around him. The messy apartment seemed to vanish around him, instead replaced by an empty one. The map was gone...everything.

Mohinder turned to him, seeing he was wearing the same shirt in his...whatever it was.

"We rent by the week," the super told him. "I'm gonna need to know that you can afford it."

"I have a job," Mohinder replied, though a bit embarrassed. "Driving a taxi."

The super nodded. "I'll get you the application."

He left, leaving Mohinder to the empty room.

He approached the wall where he had seen the map, and as if magic it appeared to him, though he knew in reality it wasn't really there.

Again, it disappeared.

What was happening to him?

He needed to find out.

A cockroach scurried across the room and he smashed it.

...

Mohinder sat on the small couch he had bought, not knowing what to do. What he was seeing was bringing him on the right track, closer to finding his father. Was it his patient zero trying to send Mohinder a message?

He sighed, closing his eyes.

_He was reading through a folder file, seeing various topics. He looked up at the map, noticing the strings that were looping around, different colors, with photos and articles hanging off of them. He took a photo out, one from an article that read: RADIATION POISONING. He stood up, hanging it on a red string._

_A cassette tape caught his eye. He read the label, and knew immediately who his father's patient zero was. Just the name sent chills down his spine._

Mohinder startled out of the vision, and reality seemed to focus once again. The maps, the tape...everything seemed to disappear before his eyes.

He didn't know what was happening to him, but he did know one thing. He had had to find this patient zero. And now he knew the name.

Sylar.

...

GABRIEL PETRELLI  
BELLUEVE HOSPITAL, NEW YORK

Gabriel was sitting in his office, studying.

He had already finished his work about an hour ago, as he only had four clients so far. It wasn't much for a psychiatrist in general, but it was a great start for one who had only just gotten his degree six months ago.

In his spare time, he was taking other Psych classes at NYU, and was currently enrolled in a full semester there. He wanted to stay as up-to-date as possible, at least, until he brought up his clientele. And, of course, getting another degree or two might not hurt.

He was just finishing the 'summer reading'-a textbook on the Ego and the Id-when the door to his office opened.

He looked up, seeing a confused-looking beautiful blond woman. She looked slightly younger than him perhaps, and wore a royal blue blazer over a black dress shirt and black pants, her hair in a neat pony tail. The confused look in her eyes hinted that she had lost her way in the corridors of the hospital, and had found her way here.

"Can I help you?" he asked her politely, looking up at her through his thick reading glasses.

She gave him a sweet smile. "Hi. I'm looking for a Dr. Petrelli?"

He closed his textbook, standing up. He was sure that the expression on his face looked equally as confused as hers did. Was she applying for a job as an intern or something? He _did_ request an assistant when he started working at the hospital. "I'm Dr. Petrelli. What can I do for you?"

She sighed with relief. "Thank God. I got lost on the way here almost three times. My dad's friend recommended you. Is this a bad time?"

He faltered. She was here to see _him_? As a patient? This girl looked really sweet and innocent. She didn't look like someone who had something 'wrong' with her.

"No, no," he told her, walking from his desk to his chair. "Please, come in."

He led her to the back, into a smaller room, where he talked to his patients. The front was normally where he answered phone calls, and went over his cases-the 'office' part of his workplace, per say. In truth, it was also the 'office' part of two other psychiatrists as well, and the small room where he saw his patients was the only place that he truly owned.

As he and the woman entered the small room, the woman began to look around curiously. This room was his own little niche, decorated exactly how he wanted it. Some of the things in the room definitely weren't cheap, but normally they were gifts, whether from Nathan or from another well-off family member. Like Peter, Gabriel didn't want to do anything with the family fortune, instead wanting to make a life on his own.

He sat down in his chair, grabbing a small pad and a pen off the coffee table in front of him. He watched the woman taking in the small collectibles on his bookshelves, the pictures of him and the family, the model cars and airplanes, the countless books and novels, the antique figurines and artifacts. Finally, her eyes rested on one of the largest pieces of decor in the room, one that meant a lot to him: the large grandfather clock.

She muttered something under her breath, something that Gabriel didn't quite catch, though it sounded like she had said, "Figures."

As he curiously watched her, all-the-while assessing her. He surmised that she was a client, or else coming to see if he was a good psychiatrist to perhaps take care of a family member.

She turned to him abruptly, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry," she told him. "I'm just...you know..."

He smiled. "It's fine," he told her. "I get it. Take all the time you need."

She stopped looking around and then sat down on the black leather couch that he had his patients sit on, on the other side of the coffee table from him.

"So, what can I help you with?" Gabriel asked her, unable to suppress his curiosity any longer.

"Well..." she took a deep breath. "It's a lot of things, really. Like...when I was little, my mom died. And like, I have a _really_ bad fear of flying. And the thing is, I _have _to go out of town in like two months and I _have_ to go by plane...And, um...are you gonna charge me for this?"

Gabriel gave a smile. "No. Usually, I don't charge the first time. I have to assess whether or not you really have something serious or just something that can be resolved in a matter of one or a few sessions. There are a lot of people who have nothing more than typical stress. I can't take their money."

She smiled, and much of her initial nervousness seemed to dissipate. "That's so nice of you! I mean, you hear about those doctors that are only in it for the money. You know what I mean?"

Sadly, he did. He knew how psychiatrists were stereotyped; quite honestly, he was afraid he would become like that, trying to drain people of their money rather than actually helping with their problems.

"So, let's get back to this whole flying thing," he began. "That _is_ what you came here to try to fix, right…?"

She paused. "Actually, the flying thing isn't really what I'm worried about."

He nodded. "Well, then. What seems to be the problem?" Mentally he winced at the clichéd words.

"Well..." she took a breath, and then looked him straight in the eye."Have you ever thought that you might be...special? Different from everyone else?"

He inwardly grimaced at the words. It reminded him terribly of Peter.

He knew he was going to have a long day.

As he began to jot down a few notes, it occurred to him that he never learned her name.

"I'm sorry," he started with an embarrassed smile. How unprofessional of him! "I never got your name, Miss…?"

She smiled again, sheepishly. "Elle. Elle Bishop."

...

PETER PETRELLI, SIMONE DEVEAUX & ISAAC MENDEZ  
NEW YORK CITY

Peter and Simone hurried to a loft. Simone wouldn't tell Peter the details, only that someone was in danger. She had given him a shot full of morphine that he was still holding in his hand.

Simone had told him a fantastic tale. Her boyfriend, an artist, could apparently predict the future. He was skeptical, but something in the back of his mind told him that it might in fact be true.

"I'm just saying it's impossible," Peter told her as they entered the loft. "Nobody could predict the future."

"I saw it with my own eyes, Peter," she told him as she walked into the room. He followed her as she called out. "Isaac? I brought someone here to help. He's a nurse."

She tried the light switch, but it didn't work. She called out again, her voice becoming more frantic. She began searching the apartment, and Peter turned on his flashlight.

He heard her calling, faintly, and as he looked around felt as well as heard something crack beneath his foot. Shining his flashlight on it, he realized what it was.

A syringe.

He began shining his flashlight on the ground around it, and finally he saw him. "Simone!"

She rushed back out, seeing Isaac on his back. Peter quickly checked him for a heartbeat. "He's alive. Call 911."

She dug for her phone, finally getting it out. "God, he's overdosed."

Peter looked up, a painting catching his attention. He heard Simone in the background, giving the police the address and situation.

He walked closer, not believing what he was seeing.

It was a man, with brown hair and a brown coat, in midair, his coat flapping behind him like a pair of wings. He was flying.

And he looked just like Peter.

"We have to stop it." The unfamiliar voice brought Peter back, and he turned toward the speaker. The man lying in Simone's arms was semi-conscious, looking at a painting on the floor.

A large explosion of New York City.

"We have to stop it."

_...  
_

PETER PETRELLI  
THE NEXT DAY

He stood on the rooftop, his coat flapping in the wind. He knew this was where he had meant to be. Below him, he saw a taxi cab pull up in the alley.

The door opened, and two men got out, Nathan and Gabriel, the former on his phone. Gabriel paid their fare, and the taxi drove off, back into the NYC streets.

"All right," Nathan said on the phone. "I'm here. Now what do you want?"

Peter dropped the phone, watching it smash. Nathan looked up.

"I've been up here all night thinking about this!" Peter shouted to his brothers. "Thinking about my destiny."

"Peter!" Gabriel yelled fearfully.

"What are you doing, Pete?" Nathan worriedly called to his youngest brother.

"It's my turn to be somebody now!" Peter shouted back.

"Don't do this!" Gabriel shouted, but it was too late.

Like in his dreams, Peter spread his arms out and leaned forward...

Falling.

_No…I can't be falling. This isn't how it was supposed to happen. I was supposed to-_

And suddenly, out of nowhere, Nathan grabbed him in midair.

_-fly. _

The weight of the two men was too much, and the both began to slowly descend. Nathan and Peter shared a smile.

"You're flying, Nathan. How did you-" Peter asked, looking at his older brother in amazement.

"I don't know."

Nathan's grip was firm, but Peter began to let go, wanting to know if he could fly himself. Now that he knew it was possible, maybe he could…

He began to plummet.

"No!" Nathan and Gabriel shouted as Peter hit the pavement.

Everything went black.

_This quest.  
This need to solve life's mysteries.  
In the end, what does it matter when the human heart can only find meaning in the smallest of moments?  
They're here. Among us.  
In the shadows. In the light.  
Everywhere.  
Do they even know yet?_

* * *

A/N: How was that for Genesis? I really hope you guys liked the Gabrielle scene. They are my favorite pairing. However, as this is mimicking a TV show, I won't have a lot of that shippiness going on for a while.

Anyway. I originally thought it would be kinda cool to post a new chapter up every Monday at 8:00 (Central time) but then I realized that I would be watching Chuck anyway...but I'm still going to try to get them up every Monday anyway.

Happy Groundhog Day!

Happy Groundhog Day!

Happy Groundhog Day!

XD

**Reviews equal love.**


	3. 1x2 Don't Look Back

A/N: Thank you again to all my viewers/favoriters/alerters/reviewers, especially, **Anonymous Sister of the Author**, **BlueDragon007**, **Kathryn Shadow**, **hana g**, **Cat Yuy**. I love you all!

**Update 2/13/09**: Happy Friday the 13th Ya'll! :D I am SO excited for this season of Heroes. It looks EXTREMELY promising and amazing. But Daphne got killed! (at least, that's what they _implied_...) And I love that kid, Luke. With Sylar. It's amazing. I think somehow they may be related or something.

**Update 2/17/09:** Jeez! Last night's episode was AMAZING! I am honestly loving the Sylar scenes with Lucas, but I know there is more than meets the eye with that kid. I think that they're brothers. Notice how in the first episode with Luke, his mom mentioned a taxidermist? And Sylar's father is apparently one...And Claire...she needs to stop picking up stray boys and just get with Peter already!

OOH, and I'm ALSO EXTREMELY excited for **_*spoiler alert*_** John Glover (aka Lionel Luthor from Smallville) playing Sylar's dad.

I'm happy to announce that my topic for my Junior Research paper is on Nature vs. Nurture and twins separated from birth. It's extremely fun and I think will help fuel my love for psychology, since college is so close now. You guys are what inspired me to do it!

Anyway, here's episode two!

P.S. I know it's a little Gabriel-heavy, but the first couple episodes are very Petrelli heavy. I hope I did a good job with that.

* * *

**Don't Look Back**

_We all imagine ourselves the agents of our destiny, capable of determining our own fate.  
But have we truly any choice in when we rise or when we fall?  
Or does a force larger than ourselves bid us our direction?  
Is it evolution that takes us by the hand?  
Does science point our way?  
Or is it God that intervenes, keeping us safe?_

...

PETER, GABRIEL & NATHAN PETRELLI

MID-TOWN, MANHATTAN

Peter gasped, waking up.

He looked around, taking in his surroundings. Everything was white: the walls, ceiling, even the flourescent lights overhead. The faint beeping of a heart monitor and the IV attached to the inside of his elbow made him realize he was in a hospital. But why?

There was a firm hand on his shoulder, and he looked to see Nathan trying to calm him.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there, buddy," Nathan said, shooting a look behind him over his shoulder.

Peter followed Nathan's gaze, seeing Gabriel standing in the distance by the door, his arms crossed and an odd look on his face.

"Where am I?" Peter asked.

"You're in a hospital," Nathan replied, turning his attention back to Peter.

"What happened?" The last memories Peter had were hazy. He remembered being on the rooftop of that building, seeing something yellow...and everything after that was fuzzy.

"You don't remember?" Nathan asked, once again looking behind him. Gabriel ignored his older brother and met his twin's quizzical gaze.

Suddenly, more images began to resurface.

_He was on the building. The yellow taxi pulled up. His brothers got out of the backseat on either side. Nathan was on the phone, and Gabriel looked up…_

And after that...nothing.

"No," he replied with a sigh, looking again at his older brother.

"You jumped, Pete," Nathan told him.

"Jumped?" Peter asked, and shot a confused look toward Gabriel's direction.

Why wasn't Gabriel saying anything? What was with the look on his face? Peter hadn't seen that look since...

Since after getting the call about their dad's death.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Nathan nodded. "Yeah, off the roof of a fifteen-story building. You tried to kill yourself. You were a little wound up yesterday, but I thought it was just you being you."

Gabriel looked up sharply at their older brother, narrowing his eyes. It was same look that he gave to Peter, when Peter would cover for Gabriel. The same look he gave when he would chastise a person who was lying.

But why would Nathan be lying? Unless...

_The brothers came out of the taxi. He dropped the phone and it smashed on the ground. They yelled for him to calm down. And he jumped. And Nathan..._

"What are you talking about? I didn't...I didn't try to kill myself. You were in the alley below. I jumped...and you...you flew."

"I what?" Nathan asked, his tone slightly patronizing with a small smile. He turned to Gabriel as if to share a laugh, but Gabriel's expression only made the smile fall.

"You flew...you flew up and caught me," Peter continued.

"You jumped, Peter...twenty-five feet to a fire-escape. I climbed up and carried you down. That's how it happened. The rest is all crazy talk. Do you understand?"

His eyes communicated everything. _That's how it's going to come out in tomorrow's newspaper. Mention any of this flying business and I'll be so far down in the polls. That's your cover, Pete._

Peter looked to Gabriel, who still wasn't saying anything. Gabriel was there. He had seen it. He knew Peter wasn't crazy.

"Gabriel, you saw it happen," Peter said. "You...you were there."

Gabriel looked torn. His eyes met Nathan's briefly, and then he turned back to Peter, shaking his head, his eyes hard. "When something happens that your brain can't deal with...sometimes it replaces what you're seeing with other images...hallucinations, to help you cope. What you saw...it couldn't happen, Peter. It was just your brain in shock, trying to deal with death. You wanted to fly, so you saw it. Nathan's right."

"Why are you defending him, Gabe?" Peter argued. "You were _there._"

There was silence, as Nathan stood up from Peter's hospital bed which he had been sitting on. He walked over to Gabriel, placing a hand on his little brother's shoulder. He turned back to Peter. "We'll be back in a little bit, Peter."

Peter watched them leave, walking toward the waiting room.

...

In the waiting room, Nathan placed a hand on Gabriel's shoulder. "I need a favor from you."

"What is it?" asked Gabriel.

"I need you to write prescription for Peter for anti-despressants. In case this gets leaked out in the media. If they ask you can tell them that you've been seeing him as a patient."

"What?" asked Gabriel incredulously, brushing the hand away as if it were diseased. "I can't do that! He's my brother! He doesn't need anti-depressants, Nathan, he was...and anyway, if they find out that I made fake prescriptions without records of him as my patient...I could get my license revoked."

"I'll pull some strings, get some records made, then," Nathan told him. "Look, Gabe, I think we both agreed that if anything ever happened like this then you would take Peter in as your patient-"

"Nathan," Gabriel pleaded. "Please. Just...tell me. What happened out there?"

Nathan stared down his younger brother, giving the same look he gave Peter. The intimidating politician. "What do you think happened, Gabriel?"

"I..." Admitting what he had _thought _he saw was impossible. Physically, it couldn't happen. "I don't know. Honestly, I have no idea what I saw."

"Then let's keep it that way. Peter fell onto the fire-escape. I carried him down while you dialled 911. End of story. Maybe that brain shock thing happened to you too. Look, I thought I could count on you to do this for me as a brother. But I'm getting Peter to see a psychiatrist one way or another. I'll just call someone else."

Gabriel glared. "Peter was right. Anything for your image." There was a pause. "I need to think on this one, Nathan. But for Peter, not you."

As if there had been no argument, Nathan smiled. "Thanks, Gabe. I knew I could count on you. Take care of him, okay?"

And with that, Nathan turned around, leaving, perhaps to clean up whatever mess his family was putting him in.

Whatever happened to the big brother that worried and protected them? Now, it seemed as if the only thing he really protected and worried over was his political image.

Gabriel sighed, turning back toward the room.

At least he still had Peter.

...

MOHINDER SURESH  
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

Mohinder sighed as he walked through the hall of his apartment building, keys jangling in his hand. It had been a long day.

There hadn't been any more of those weird vision things in the last day or so.

He was beginning to get worried. He was so sure that this was his father's patient zero, or at least someone connected to his father-sending him these projections, leading him. Something was going on, and he had to find out what.

He had searched around for the name 'Sylar' but only the old watch brand came up. That had led him nowhere. Had it been a name, an alias, or something to do with that watch? He didn't know.

He turned to face the door, the fourth one on his right. Taking out his keys, he unlocked the door, closing the door behind him.

The moment he opened the door, however, the apartment seemed to ripple as if it were a cloth billowing in the wind. Almost out of nowhere, a man in an exterminator suit seemed to appear out of nowhere, as did another version of him, dressed in the same exact clothes as he was.

This time he was _watching _the scene, the vision.

_Mohinder sighed as he walked into his apartment, removing his satchel. It had been a hard day of work. He walked deeper into the apartment, beginning to remove his shirt to change._

_Before he did, however, he caught sight of something moving in the apartment. Upon further investigation, he saw it was a man, dressed in an exterminator's suit. Alarmed, Mohinder grabbed a heavy stone elephant as a weapon if necessary._

_He slowly crept up behind the man, unnoticed, raising the elephant high, prepared._

_"Who are you?" he asked loudly, startling the exterminator._

_The man turned around, facing Mohinder and holding his hands out defensively. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Sorry, sorry! Easy, easy!" The man stood up, still holding his hands out, seemingly scared as Mohinder looked comparatively threatening. "Your super let us in. We're doing the whole building today. I just got done with the lady with the dog and the cough. Almost done here."_

_He gestured to the tank next to him, but Mohinder didn't put the metal elephant down. Something didn't seem right about this guy. It might be nothing, but after hearing the guy in the next room talking about his father, and his father's mysterious death...they could be anywhere._

_The exterminator turned back, picking up a spray bottle. Mohinder looked under the table, curious to see what the man was doing. The electrical panels were off, wires hanging out of the wall. He looked to the kit that the man had, seeing tools. Very un-exterminator like. His grip tightened around the elephant._

_"Uh, listen, it looks like some cockroaches might have infested your, uh, floorboards," the exterminator was saying, very unconvincing. He noticed the elephant still in Mohinder's hand and shook his head._

_Suddenly, he swung the canister at Mohinder's head, but Mohinder ducked just in time. He swung the metal elephant, hitting the man in the knee, the reverberation numbing his hand. The exterminator fell to the ground in pain._

_"Who are you? What did you do with my father?" Mohinder demanded._

_The exterminator kicked Mohinder from the ground, throwing him several feet backward, flying across the room. He landed on the floor with a _thud, _and the exterminator got to his feet, producing a gun from the holster at his side._

_Mohinder scrambled backward in fear._

_"Let's take a little breather, huh, professor?" the exterminator said._

_"I suppose that cockroaches are the least of my problems," Mohinder said._

_"Yeah, no argument there," replied the exterminator._

_"Did you kill my father?" Mohinder asked._

_The exterminator didn't say anything, but picked up his metal tool box. "I think we're done here, don't you? So I'll tell you what. Have a really great day."_

_He tucked the tool box under his arm, walking toward the door. Mohinder got to his feet and chased after him._

Watching the two scramble out of the door in his vision, the real Mohinder followed them, blindly opening the door as it was still open in his vision though not in real life. He saw himself and the exterminator in the hall, the lines of reality rippling again.

This was surreal. He didn't know what he was seeing...or what it meant. Was this supposed to happen in the future?

_The exterminator exited Mohinder's apartment as a young woman with short dark hair entered the hall, grocery bags in her hand. He bumped into her, and she fell back, dropping her grocery bags as he dropped his metal tool kit._

The real Mohinder watched himself run out of the apartment, and the fake one ran through the real one. It was an odd feeling, one that sent shivers down his spine. What was going to happen? He hoped the woman wasn't going to die.

_Mohinder grabbed the exterminator, and as the two began to struggle, the exterminator dropped his gun. Shortly after, the man smashed Mohinder against the wall as a method to try to get him off his back._

_A gun cocked, and the two stopped._

_They turned towrad the woman, who was holding it at the two. They both put their hands up, defensively._

_"Hey, look, I'm just the exterminator," the man defended._

_"He is not an exterminator," Mohinder argued._

_"He's paranoid. I was just in there spraying bugs. He came in and freaked out," the man continued._

_"If you're an exterminator, why do you have a gun holster?" the woman asked._

_Caught, the man pushed Mohinder to the woman and fled. Both began to fall. Mohinder grabbed the woman to stop them both from falling. They looked down the hallway. He was gone._

_"Thanks for coming to my rescue," he told her._

_"You're welcome," the woman said with a smile._

_"Mohinder Suresh," he introduced._

_She shook his hand. "Eden Mccain. You're the professor's son."_

And with that, the vision seemed to end.

The fake Mohinder and the woman were gone, and reality stood still around him. Mohinder continued to stand outside the door, wondering what he was missing.

Footsteps from down the hallway alerted him. Someone was coming up the stairs. Had it been a warning, that the man posing as the exterminator was coming?

But a famliar haircut made him relax. Eden. She was wearing the _exact same thing_ she was wearing in his vision, carrying the grocery bags. She saw him and smiled.

"Going out?" she asked.

Mohinder snapped out of his trance. "Y-yeah, actually. I just moved in." And suddenly, he had to know: "You're Eden, right?"

She was taken off-guard. "Yeah…how did you know?"

He was brought back out of his thoughts, and wondered how he could get out of this without coming off...well, stalker-ish. He couldn't very well tell her the truth. '_You're the professor's son.'_

"My father told me about you. He used to live in this apartment. Chandra Suresh?" He gave a smile.

She seemed relieved. "Oh. You're the professor's son."

"Yes, my name's Mohinder. Mohinder Suresh."

Finally, he was getting somewhere. This woman had answers. It was only a matter of time before he finally found his father.

...

GABRIEL PETRELLI  
NEW YORK UNIVERSITY

"What makes us so different?" a short, stocky professor addressed the large audience of students. "Why do some of us lead, but some of us follow? What makes one child a bully and another the victim? Is it genetic, a higher power, or perhaps something simpler, more animalistic? What are our limits? When the time comes, do we choose fight or flight? Let's take, for example, the schoolyard bully."

As the professor, Dr. Keller, continued his lecture of social personality development, Gabriel couldn't stop replaying the events of earlier today.

Watching his twin brother jump off a tall building had been traumatizing enough. He had been worried about Peter, worried that he was losing sight of his priorities. Peter's dreams had distracted him so much that it kept Peter from gaining his M.D. in general medicine, as the two had promised at a young age they would both become doctors. Gabriel had worried that Peter's dreams would crash around him, and the bitterness of reality would be too much.

Peter had always been a romantic, putting his instincts and heart above everything else. Nathan had always been practical, having long-term goals and doing whatever it took to achieve them, even if it meant stepping on his own brothers. Even though Peter had always been Gabriel's best friend, Gabriel could never be so impulsive as his brother and instead absorbed some of Nathan's ambition in his own way.

And Gabriel...Gabriel had always been a skeptic. When Nathan used to read them stories as children at night, he would pick apart the unrealistic characters, ask questions, and point out plot holes. When Peter was afraid, Gabriel would give him reasons why monsters and nightmares _couldn't _be real.

Until earlier today.

What he saw today...it was impossible. No amount of reason would explain what he saw.

Nathan _flew._

Peter's dreams had been right all along.

After he left the hospital earlier, he wondered whether his theory was correct-that his brain had made up Nathan flying, and that Peter really fell.

But when he went back to that one spot, he realized that there was _no way _Peter could've survived that fall. He couldn't have hit the fire escape, because it was too far to the right.

Peter _knew _and Nathan _flew._

Gabriel decided he would make a visit to see Peter at the hospital, to hear his side of the story.

He turned his attention back to the professor.

"-most likely, stemming from their own abuse that they have endured in their home. Classic textbook case. But what makes others in the same situation choose to lash out with peace and thus end the cycle for their own children? What makes one rise up though his or her siblings may fall?" There was a pause as Dr. Keller glanced at his watch. "That's all the time we have for today. Your homework is to read chapters one through nine in your textbook, not much for your first day. Take care!"

Gabriel rose from his seat, forming a line along with the other students. It was his first day back at NYU in the last six months. He had decided to come back for a while-since he had only just gotten his license and not many people would want to hire/see someone who was fresh-out-of-college-and until he brought up his clientele, he would stay up-to-date on his studies and maybe even earn another degree or two.

As he began to exit the classroom, someone caught him by the shoulder. He turned toward them, seeing Dr. Keller.

"Mr. Petrelli, is it?" asked Dr. Keller, his voice almost an octave higher than his loud and booming teaching voice. "A word?"

Gabriel nodded, confused. He moved out of the line as to not block the other students, heading down the stairs toward Dr. Keller's desk.

The stocky man turned around to face Gabriel, sitting in his chair. "It has come to my attention that not only have you received a degree in Psychiatry, you are also a licensed practitioner, correct?"

Gabriel nodded, an odd feeling in his stomach. "That's not against policy, is it? I mean, I talked to the people when I registered and they said it wasn't-"

Dr. Keller held up a chubby hand, cutting him off. "No, no, nothing like that. But...I assume you have patients, then? Well, I just want to know what you are expecting out of my class."

"I'm sorry?" Gabriel asked politely. Inwardly, he cursed himself, checking the clock inconspicuously. Visiting hours at the hospital were almost over, and the more he thought about visiting Peter, the more he thought it a good idea.

Dr. Keller removed his glasses, wiping them with his shirt. He placed them back on his nose, and sighed heavily. "I've been in the Psych department for a good twenty years. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there. Most Psych majors are slackers, and most with a degree feel that their word is law and licensed practitioners think that they're God. But most have one thing in common: proving their theories right and others' wrong."

Gabriel paused, offended. "You think I'm here to _heckle_ you?"

Dr. Keller leaned forward in his chair, folding his hands and placing them on the desk, looking straight at Gabriel. "As I said, it's a dog-eat-dog world. You get a few people on the side, you get cocky. And being a politician's brother, I'm sure you've been exposed to that degree of arrogance for a while."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. He was beyond offended now, and he couldn't take this professor's jabs, about him, and _especially _about Nathan. "I don't know what kind of person you think I am, Dr. Keller, but I'm here to _learn._ Just because I have earned a degree and have established a practice doesn't mean anything. I enrolled here to learn, to be a better doctor, and by enrolling in _your_ class, I'm entrusting _you_ to teach _me_, as I had assumed you were smart enough to do so. And judging from your inappropriate comments about both me and my brother, my assumptions were wrong."

Dr. Keller's expression was one of amusement, a half-smirk on his face. He nodded. "I like you, Mr. Petrelli. You got guts, sticking up for yourself. And not the arrogant kind, either."

Gabriel narrowed his eyebrows, confused.

Dr. Keller continued. "Most kids who come here are slackers. Granted, many do wind up taking on the asshole persona as their career goes on. They don't _like_ school, necessarily-they party, cheat, and when the time comes they struggle to make the grade. I don't think you're like that at all, Mr. Petrelli. You're different; special. You're real and down to earth and have an aptitude for learning. I think you'll go far."

Gabriel was taken aback by his statements. So this was all a test? "How would you know? You've only had me in class for one day."

Dr. Keller smiled. "Let's just say I'm very good at reading people." He paused, his expression giving off an air of finality. "I'm glad we had this discussion, Mr. Petrelli, and I hope you do well to remember it."

Gabriel nodded awkwardly, unsure of what to say. "Thank you, Dr. Keller."

As he turned away toward the exit, picking up his black messenger bag and slinging it over his chest as he walked away, Dr. Keller called out his name.

"Oh, and Mr. Petrelli?"

Gabriel stopped, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, and turned once again toward the stocky professor. "Yes, Dr. Keller?"

"In my class you are not a 'Dr.,' rather, a student, as equal as all others," Dr. Keller stated, looking up at Gabriel though small eyes. "Do you understand, Mr. Petrelli?"

Gabriel nodded. "Yeah. I understand."

Dr. Keller smiled. "Good. Give my regards to your brother. You're free to go."

Gabriel nodded, turning to leave, and grateful to do so. Casting one last glance back at Dr. Keller, he headed up the stairs and exited.

...

MOHINDER SURESH & EDEN MCCAIN  
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

There was a knock on the door just as Mohinder exited his bedroom, buttoning his shirt as he was getting ready to step out. He finished getting dressed before opening the front door, seeing Eden holding a white casserole dish.

"Eden, hi," Mohinder greeted. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Are you going out?" Eden asked, taking in his attire. "I can come back later."

"No, no," Mohinder insisted. "Come in."

She held out the casserole dish out to him as she entered, which Mohinder took. "I made extra. It's tuna casserole. Papa Suresh likes it. There's enough for both of you."

She didn't know, Mohinder figured, sadly. He walked over to the small kitchen counter top, placing the dish on it. "Papa Suresh?"

Eden smiled. "Yeah, he told me to call him that after I butchered his name a couple times." She looked around the apartment, her eyes settling on the wall where Mohinder had seen the odd map in his vision. "Where is he, anyway? I never really see him around anymore."

"That's what I would like to know," Mohinder replied, walking back toward her. "He went missing a couple weeks ago."

Shocked, Eden sat down on the small couch, a new addition to the living room as of a few days ago. "Missing? Why?"

Mohinder sighed, sitting next to her. "You were close?"

"Yeah," Eden replied. "I mean, I hate cooking for one. So I used to make extra and we would...eat together, and he'd tell me about his theories and the map. We were friends."

"Well," Mohinder began, struggling to find comforting words. "Then you were closer to him than I was. I'm glad he had someone to talk to. Here, I'll get you some water." He stood up, walking to the sink to get a clean glass.

"I had no idea anything was wrong," Eden began. "I...I knocked on the door a couple of times. I just thought...that he was out, and that we kept missing each other. I had this book I wanted to show him."

"Which book?" Mohinder asked as he exited the kitchen with the full glass.

"Darwin's _Origin of Species_," she replied, as he handed her the glass. "Thanks. It's a true first edition. I work at this antique book store, and I found a copy...and I just thought he'd get a kick out of reading it."

"That's very thoughtful," he told her. "But we'll find him. You can give it to him then. And I'm sure he definitely will get a kick out of it."

Eden dropped her gaze, realization dawning on her. "You know, he told me he was being watched. I thought that he was just eccentric."

Mohinder smiled. "I like that you didn't use the word 'paranoid.'"

"Do you think that they're watching you now?" she asked.

"I don't know," he replied. "Back in Madras, I found a man in his apartment, stealing his research, and then someone was trying to tap the phone..." He tralied off, not sure if what he was remembering was reality or...whatever it was he was seeing. "But whoever they are...they could've killed me if that's what they wanted. For the time being, it seems I'm more important to them alive."

He turned to her, getting to business. "You said that he talked to you about his theories and the map. I need you to tell me everything he said to you. Everything you remember. Everything."

...

PETER & ANGELA PETRELLI  
MID-TOWN, MANHATTAN

Peter was bored.

There was nothing really to do in the hospital besides lay there in the bed, staring at the ceiling. The only saving grace was that he would be able to leave by the end of the day.

His only way to pass the time was the pad of paper and pen that the nurse left him. He was already bored of drawing, and was now just sketching automatically, without even really caring what he was drawing.

There was a knock from the glass window, and Peter looked up to see his mother. He quickly put the drawing to the side, eager to talk to _someone_ finally as she walked into the room.

However, he could quickly tell that this was not something he was wanting to do-he knew what his mother wanted to talk about.

"Help me understand what you were doing on that roof," his mother said.

His mom was too much like Nathan-too practical. She would send him to a psychiatrist immediately. She would never believe him. "I can't. Not yet. But I will. You just have to trust me."

She walked closer to him, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding up a bag that she had brought, which had Peter's clothes in it, which she began to take out.

"There's something you need to know about your father's death," she began, not looking up at Peter. "He committed suicide."

"What?"

"He committed suicide," she repeated. "I found him on the floor of the bathroom. He...digested a poison."

"You said he had a heart attack."

"I lied," she said simply. "For his reputation, his heart was fine."

"But he'd had two others before that, too," Peter continued, not wanting to believe that his father really committed suicide.

"Well, I lied about those, too," Angela confessed, emotionlessly. "Suicide attempts, both of them. He finally got what he wanted. When he was twenty-three, he was diagnosed with manic-depressive disorder. He couldn't help it. It was just who he was. Gabriel tried to help him by getting a degree, but it was too late."

"Gabriel knew?"

"Not directly," Angela replied. "He figured it out on his own, and your father and I couldn't lie to him. We decided not to tell you since the disorder can have a genetic link, and you were always so sensitive. We didn't want you to worry about it."

"But you're telling me now," Peter countered.

"It can start with delusions of grandeur," she began. "Thinking you're invincible or indestructable. They are irrational thoughts that can turn suicidal. It's time you took a hard look at your life, Peter. And if there are changes to be made, I want to be there to help you. Because there's something else I never told you. Come here."

Peter leaned forward, and she wrapped him in an embrace, hugging him tight. "You were always my favorite. I cannot lose you."

"Yeah." It was all he could say.

This was too much. Why was everyone against him? He didn't try to committ suicide. No matter what his mother or Nathan or Gabriel said, he _knew_ what had happened, he saw what had happened.

His mother pulled away, getting up and turning to leave. "You have another visitor," she said, and left.

He looked up, not seeing anyone, except his mother walking down the hall, leaving.

A few moments after his mother disappeared, Peter saw a tall and familiar dark-haired man turn the corner, a black messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He opened the door, entering the room.

Gabriel gave Peter a half-smile. "Hello, Peter."

"Gabriel," Peter smiled, relieved to see his twin. He nodded toward the styrofoam cup of Starbuck's coffee in Gabriel's hand. "What, no flowers?"

Gabriel gave a chuckle as he made his way over to the chair next to Peter's bed, setting the cup of coffee on the small nightstand next to the hospital bed. "I'll be sure to bring them for you next time I visit. How're you feeling?"

"Better except for a killer headache. They're releasing me tonight," Peter replied. "What're you doing here, Gabe?"

"Can't a guy stop by to see his hospitalized twin brother?" Gabriel asked with a lazy smile, cocking his head slightly to the side. "I just got out of class. I don't have any appointments today. Thought I'd stop by."

Peter smiled, seeing through his brother's pretense, or at least, the facade he tried to use. Gabriel was never one who liked to show his feelings for his family outright, but Peter was very good at seeing through him.

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence. Gabriel took the opportunity to take a sip from the expresso he had bought at the hospital's Starbuck's, observing Peter as he did so.

"I saw Mom stopped by," Gabriel began. "Everything all right?"

A shadow passed over Peter's face, something which did not go unnoticed by Gabriel. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by an amused smile. "Yeah...she's just, uh, giving me a hard time. You know how she can get."

Gabriel gave a wry smirk, his left eyebrow lifting for a second. He did know, all too to well.

But he knew Peter and himself all too well too. Both were skirting around the main issue, the real reason why Gabriel came here. They both wanted to talk about it, and both _knew _that they wanted to talk about it, but they also knew that it could potentially end in a fight, break up their playful banter with talk of suicide, delusions of grandeur, and possible mental problems.

But Gabriel was determined to proceed, because he did know what he saw. Even though there was still that part of him that was screaming that it was wrong, that there was no way a man could fly, that he should talk to Nathan or his Mother or hell, even another psychiatrist to screw his head on straight, there was also the other part of him, the one that _knew _that he and Peter were destined to become something more than just ordinary people.

The part that knew that they were special.

But that always lead him back to the big question: was it because they really _were _different or was it because of the genetic disorder that their father had?

Gabriel leaned forward, placing his chin on his folded hands, his eyes boring into Peter's, as if to read his mind. His voice was low, serious. "What happened up there, Peter?"

Peter's expression changed, matching his brother's. "I didn't try to committ suicide."

Gabriel held his gaze, studying Peter, before breaking the intensity. He nodded. "I know. I believe you."

Peter gave a bitter chuckle. "Do you really?"

Gabriel could feel himself getting defensive, a reflex he and Peter shared. "Look, Peter, having dreams and thinking you can fly is one thing. But acting on them is another-"

"You _saw_ what happened, Gabriel," Peter protested. "You were there."

Gabriel could tell that Peter was beginning to get angry, but still he persisted. "What I _saw_ was nothing more than an overactive imagination."

"Then how do you explain that we both saw the same things?" Peter shot back.

Gabriel shook his head. "The brain has the ability to take images and slow them down, and when you jumped, it made everything look like it was in super slow motion-"

"Don't give me that, Gabriel," Peter spat. "I expect to hear things like that from Mom or Nathan. But not from you."

"Peter-"

"Do you remember six months ago? When Nathan's accident happened?" Peter asked. "I _called_ you, do you remember that? I told you about my dream _before_ it happened. How do you explain that, Gabriel?"

Gabriel remained silent. He _did_ remember the phone call, very clearly. He himself had also been dreaming...

Peter had called him, scared because it felt so real and because he knew Gabriel would always listen, no matter how crazy it sounded. But how else did Peter know? There was no possible way unless...

"Listen to yourself, Peter!" Gabriel said forcefully, the fact that he was beginning to believe Peter unnerving him. "Human flight, dreaming the future...it's crazy! I mean, I expect stuff like that from my patients, but...to actually _believe_ what I saw is what _really_ happened? I'm a _psychiatrist_ for God sakes! We always talked about this, remember? _Being_ someone, having a great career _away_ from what Mom and Dad wanted us to be. I'm a _licensed_ doctor, Peter. I can't put ten years worth of education behind me to believe something like this!"

"But you'll throw away twenty-eight years worth of being my brother instead."

Gabriel could feel his anger and stubbornness deflate, and he knew he had lost the argument. He could never deny his brother anything. Peter was the anchor in his life, his best friend.

He stood up, determined to leave before he said anything worth regretting. "I want to believe you, Peter. Really, I do. Because then it would mean that you're not crazy, and that...we _are_ meant for something. But if it _is_ nothing, if what Nathan said is what really _did_ happen...if I gave in to you it would just make whatever you have worse, and that would mean that _I _had it too. They would take away my license, and...I can't do that to you. You're my best friend."

Gabriel dejectedly slung his messenger bag over his shoulder, and turned to leave.

"What if I could prove it to you?" Peter called out.

Gabriel stopped, but didn't turn around.

Peter continued. "Give me two days. If I don't find anything, I'll never mention any of this again. Everything will go back to the way it was."

"And if you do?" Gabriel asked.

"Then I owe you a big 'I told you so,'" Peter retorted lightly.

Gabriel gave a light chuckle, and then began to walk away. Before he reached the door, he called back.

"Two days."

...

MATT PARKMAN  
LOS ANGELES

This wasn't exactly what he had been expecting all these years, ever since he was younger, when he wanted to be a cop.

Directing traffic wasn't exactly an ambition he wanted to achieve, especially when there was a murder and a missing little girl case going on, right behind him.

"Some serial killer strikes in the middle of Los Angeles, abducts a little girl, and here I am, a hundred feet away," he muttered. "Might as well be in Siberia."

"That's all right," one of the officers said to him. He couldn't remember his name-it started with an 'S' or a 'C' or something. "They don't pay us enough to be where the action is. What are you gonna do, anyway?"

"What do you mean?" Matt asked, slightly offended. "I just want to help."

"You wanna help?" the officer began smartly. "Help me get some more tape."

Matt sighed, but was distracted by two cars pulling up. Two agents of some kind got out, one a pretty brunette woman dressed in a nice suit, a variation among the MIB-looking men.

"What do you think?" the officer asked. "CIA or FBI?"

Matt looked at the woman again. "Nah, she's dressed too nice for FBI."

"I saw the test scores got posted this morning," the officer said.

Matt's face fell. It was the third time...he had thought he would have gotten it.

The officer clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, man. Not everybody's a test taker. Who wants to be a detective, anyway?"

_Please don't hurt me. _

The voice of the little girl invaded his ears. The officer was continuing, but Matt turned around, looking around to find her.

_He stole them. _

Where was she? She couldn't have gotten past the tape, and he couldn't see anyone nearby who wasn't an officer. And why couldn't the officer hear her?

He walked toward the voice, toward the house. Vaguely, he heard the officer call his name. He listened for her, but all he heard were voices of the other officers. He got closer to the house, and finally, cutting through all the other voice, much deeper and closer, he heard her again.

_Please. _

He walked into the house, taking in the horrible scene. A woman was hanging off the banister of the stairwell by various kitchen utensils, her head cut open.

_Please don't hurt me. _

Even though she was still louder than the rest of the house, than the crime personnel taking pictures of the body...he was frozen. This was the worst murder he had ever witnessed. Actually, it was one of the _only_ murders he had witnessed.

_Please don't hurt me. _

He had to get to the little girl. She seemed to be calling him. Maybe that was why nobody else could hear her.

He hurried to the living room, seeing two FBI agents talking, one the woman from before, another a blond woman.

"You know we don't have any idea what happened here," the brunette said to blonde.

"I've got a theory," the blond woman stated simply.

"You always do."

"This is Barstow all over again. It's Sylar," said the blonde.

The name sent chills down Matt's spine. Sylar. He had heard that name before...but where?

The brunette woman continued, her voice cold. "There isn't a Sylar. Last words of a dying victim. It didn't mean anything. And look at her. It took, what, three guys to lift her that high. What about the daughter?"

Daughter...the little girl?

"No sign," replied the blond woman. "We checked the house and surrounding, issued an amber alert. You've seen what happened to the father."

Matt looked at the man at the kitchen table, the father, presumably. He was frozen solid, icicles hanging off him, his spoon full of cereal raised to his mouth. Like the woman, his head had been cut open. Matt was both disgusted and entranced, and began walking up to the body.

"Frozen solid," the woman started. "Skull sawed off. We need to find out how."

"The little girl's a priority."

_Please don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me._

"You're not supposed to be in here," the brunette agent said authoritatively.

Matt held a finger to his lips, motioning them to be quiet. He walked toward the sound-toward a small panel under the stairs.

_Please don't hurt me. _

He removed the lamp and table, setting it to the side. He pushed the panel, and it opened into a cupboard.

Behind the tables and chairs, there crouched a little girl, huddled and scared.

"It's okay," Matt said, comfortingly. "It's okay. You're safe now."

She still shied away from him. He pointed to his badge. "Look, I'm a cop. I'm one of the good guys, okay?"

_He hurt my mom and he hurt my dad. _

He held out a hand to her. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. No, no, no. Come on, take my hand. It's okay. Come on."

...

Tick.

_He stepped out of the cab and into the alley, opposite of his eldest brother. He watched as the yellow taxi drove away. Nathan was still on the phone. _

Tock.

_A cell phone crashed on the ground next to him, shattering into a thousand pieces on the pavement only a few feet away from him. He looked up, seeing a figure standing on the rooftop. He looked closely, seeing a familiar shirt, and a closer look at the broken phone confirmed it._

Tick.

_"Peter!" he shouted, fear gripping him tightly. He and Nathan were both afraid for their brother._

Tock.

_Peter spread his arms out and leaned forward, falling. He was frozen, watching Peter; he was watching his own brother, his own twin and literally his other half, falling to his death or something very close. He wouldn't be able to take it if Peter died, not after all this, not after Nathan's accident and Heidi's broken spine and Dad's death, not after- _

_And suddenly, a flash of gray caught Peter in midair, the impact sending him and the gray thing back a few feet toward the building. _

Tick.

_An odd feeling washed over him, and he knew that he had gone into shock because his brain was screaming that what he was seeing was completely wrong. There was no way that it was a man that caught Peter, no way how they were both suspended in the air, no way that Nathan had disappeared from his side and that he had been wearing a gray suit- _

Tock.

_The scene replayed again, and this time, he saw it clearly. It was Nathan that had risen up into the air and caught Peter. _

Tick.

_They began spiralling downward slowly as the weight of the two men was too much to take. _

Tock-Tick-Tock-

_It replayed again and this time he was flying, too, holding onto his brothers in a circle and he felt whole and fulfilled- _

Tick-Tock-Tick-

_And suddenly, his brothers were gone and he was alone. _

Tock-Tick-Tock-

_And he was falling, falling toward the pavement and craving for the flight to come back- _

Tick-tock-tick-

_-and he was wishing that he had that power back, needing it because it would save him, but also because of something else, the feeling of being whole. _

Tock-tick-tock-

_He wanted so much to be powerful again, it was almost like a hung-_

Tick-tock-tick-

_"What is that mysterious ticking noise?"_

He woke up with a jolt, breathing heavily.

...

GABRIEL PETRELLI  
NEW YORK CITY

The voice was loud, and seemed to come from a TV, radio, computer or something similar.

Then it was gone.

Gabriel looked around, taking in his surroundings. He had fallen asleep at his desk again, a bad habit that usually killed his back a day or two later. He removed a piece of notebook paper from his neurology class notes that was clinging to his cheek from his sleep.

Soft laughter drifted into his bedroom from the living room-the laughter of a little boy. Confused, he stood up, walking toward the living room.

Upon entering the hallway, he heard another voice: deeper, male, older, and unmistakably familiar.

"Guys, keep it down. Your uncle Gabe's studying."

Gabriel entered the living room, smiling at the scene. There were his two nephews, Simon and Monty, huddled around his PC, watching a YouTube video while still in their school uniforms. And there, looking out the closed balcony windows stood Nathan, dressed in his gray suit with his hands clasped behind his back. An odd sense of déjà vu came over Gabriel.

Though Gabriel was probably the most apolitical of the brothers, he couldn't help but notice the strength he saw in Nathan's pose, the strong chin, the straight posture, mature, watchful gaze...Gabriel could see that his brother could become a great politician. He knew that no matter what the current polls read, Nathan had the potential to get Senate, and perhaps one day even President, perhaps even 2012-Alaskan governor be damned.

"Is there a party in my living room I wasn't invited to?" Gabriel asked sarcastically. Nathan and the boys turned toward him, the latter two grinning and rushing to him, enveloping him in a hug, shouting, "Uncle Gabe!"

"Hey, you two!" Gabriel smiled. "How are my two favorite nephews? God, you guys are getting so big."

He looked up at Nathan, and his smile fell at his brother's expression.

"Hey, you know what?" Gabriel asked his nephews. "My Mac laptop's really fast and better for watching YouTube videos than this old thing. Why don't you guys go use that insted? It's already plugged in in my room. How does that sound?"

They grinned and sprinted for his room. Gabriel knew the two loved to use the Mac. He smiled fondly as the two began fighting for using it on the way, finally disappearing through the hallway.

"Haven't seen you guys over here in a long time," Gabriel began. He still had a few ill feelings toward his eldest brother from earlier that morning, but Gabriel was never one to hold a grudge, especially against his own family.

"Well, you know, I've been busy with the election and everything, and I know how much the boys love coming here." He unclasped his hands, moving, for the first time, toward Gabriel. "I hope you're still not mad at me for earlier."

Gabriel saw through him immediately. "You didn't come here just to see me or to apologize."

Nathan gave a wry smile. "You're right. I came to talk about Peter."

"I should've known," Gabriel muttered. "Every time I try to have a normal, civilized conversation with my brother, he wants to institutionalize our not-so-crazy other brother in order to maintain his public image. And you wonder why Mom's stealing socks."

"Look, Gabe, I have a lot riding on this," Nathan began. "And actually...I was wondering if you could watch the boys for a while. It's the babysitter's day off and I didn't think it would be a good idea if I brought them to Peter's right now. I've got a meeting with a psychiatrist in Brooklyn for Peter. If you don't want to see your brother that's fine, but one way or another I'm getting someone to see him. All right?"

Gabriel's face hardened. "Bribes, betrayal, now blackmail? You're turning into a true politician, Nate. Dad would be proud."

There was a tense pause as the two locked eyes.

Finally, Gabriel spoke, his voice low and cold. "Tell me, Nathan. What'll happen if Peter goes to see this psychiatrist? What if he consulted his brother, another licensed psychiatrist? What if said psychiatrist told this new one that Peter was right all along? What then? Would I be sent to an insane asylum to be shut up too?"

"Gabriel, stop it-"

Gabriel continued, with an amused smirk. "Or what if I dedcided to jump off an eight story building? Would you fly up and catch me too?"

"Gabe, keep your voice down-"

"Then tell me it was real, Nathan. Tell me the truth about what I saw. I won't tell a soul, I swear. I just...want to know that I can still trust you as my big brother. Please, Nathan. Tell me and I'll do it."

Nathan sighed, looking down. This time, when he looked back up, Gabriel saw his older brother, not the politician facade. "Peter jumped and...I...I flew, Gabe. I don't know how, but I did."

Gabriel was good at reading people. As his old freshman Gerneral-Psychology teacher told him, _"You can't BS a psych-major; their job is to read minds."_

Nathan was usually hard to read. When talking politics, Gabriel could always tell when Nathan mostly had no idea what he was going to do in some issues, even when others couldn't. However, in the personal affairs, Nathan was very good at covering things up, lying and manipulating to get what he wanted. Just like their parents.

It was difficult now to tell whether Nathan was being sincere. But for Peter's sake, Gabriel would believe him.

"Fine," Gabriel said. "I'll do it."

Nathan smiled. "Knew I could count on you, Gabe."

There was pause.

"So...can I still watch the kids?"

...

MOHINDER SURESH  
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

He was stuck.

Eden didn't really know all that much about his father's patient zero, except that he met them about six months ago, and that this person proved all his theories very much correct.

Mohinder stood at the blank wall, staring at it.

He needed that map; he had no clue where to begin. The only time he had ever seen it was in his vision, and those were coming very sporadically. Whoever was sending these to him needed to send him more if this person indeed wanted him to find his father.

"Where are you?" Mohinder shouted to the air, knowing that this person might be listening in. "You want me to find my father then show me the map! Show me anything!"

He ran a hand through his hair. He was getting nowhere.

And then the phone rang. He looked at it, and then noticed the room seemed to ripple. Out of nowhere, a version of himself and Eden appeared on his couch, studying the wall behind him.

Mohinder looked at the wall as the phone rang a third time.

It was there, everything he needed.

Quickly, without breaking his gaze at the wall, he dug frantically for his small notepad and a pen, finally retrieving the items.

He began to make a rough sketch of the map, writing down as much text as he could.

The answering machine clicked on.

_"You've reached Chandra Suresh. Please leave a message."_

At the sound of his father's voice, Mohinder automatically turned toward the machine. However, when he turned back toward the wall, the map was gone.

The machine was beeping, and as Mohinder walked closer to it, he saw the display flashing a number, 4, in red. He pressed the playback button.

_"Chandra, this is Emi. You forgot to turn in your trip sheet for last week. Where is your head, man?"_

The machine beeped again.

_"Hi, I'm Nathan Petrelli. It would be an honor to represent New York's 14th district. When the time comes, vote Petrelli."_

Beep.

_"Hello, Chandra,"_ _a dark voice began._ _"Why won't you talk to me? You can't leave me like this."_

_The phone clicked, and Chandra picked up. "Please, Lilith. I asked you not to call here anymore." _

_"But you and I both know the truth. Sylar can't be stopped." The woman let out a dark laugh. _

_"Lilith-" _

_"I'm going to find him, Chandra," the woman assured darkly. "And when I do...you're gonna wish he had killed you."_

_She laughed darkly, until there was a beep, when Suresh hung up._

That was the end of the messages.

"Sylar..." Mohinder mumbled. He had to find this man. He seemed important, and it seemed that both this Lilith and his father were after him. Maybe this was where his father had gone, to find this Sylar.

There was a crash from inside the room. Alert, Mohinder turned sharply toward it. He walked toward the noise.

A little green lizard was on the shelf. Mohinder smiled, picking it up. "Just like my father to have one." He looked around, seeing a tank. He walked over to it, placing the lizard inside. "Here...what is this?"

He saw something odd sticking out of the pebbles, something that didn't quite seem to belong, a small and rectangular object. He took it out of the tank and inspected it.

It was a flash drive.

Quickly he shoved the flash drive into the USB port in his computer. Almost immediately, the screen went black and Mohinder was worried for a moment that there was a virus. But after a second, the screen filled with a series of letters and numbers, scrolling sideways.

Mohinder was speechless. "My God. He did it. He found a way to find them. I can find him, find Sylar. I'm going to finish what he started."

...

MATT PARKMAN  
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

The FBI were susupicious of him, he could tell, as he walked around the Walker's swimming pool.

He looked up, hearing footsteps and saw the brunette woman and the blond woman agents approaching him.

The brunette agent's expression was cold and indifferent, while the blonde had a scowl, suspicion in her eyes.

"Hey, Parkman, how the hell did you know that little girl was in there?" the brunette asked him.

Matt sighed. He had been asking himself that same question. "I don't know...I don't know. I just-I heard her whispering and um..."

The brunette shrugged it off, satisfied that the girl was found. But the blonde leaned closer, skepticism in her expression. "House full of cops, you're on the outside and you heard a whisper?"

"I can't explain it," he began. "It was...I thought everyone could hear her. You guys didn't hear her?"

He glanced at his watch. It was getting late, and if arrived too late, Janice would be mad and that would not go over well-

"You got some place better to be?" the brunette inquired, and he knew by her tone and the blonde's suspicious expression that he was not getting out of this for a good hour, maybe, unless he tried to talk her out of it.

"It's my wife...I, uh, I'm meeting her at a...therapy session. Couple's counseling. We have some problems at home."

He didn't exactly want to eleborate on his personal life, but maybe they would give him a break, or at least understand.

_This guy is worthless. Worthless. _

The brunette's mouth wasn't moving, but he could hear her just as loudly as he heard the little girl.

She turned toward the blonde. "Cut him loose. He got lucky."

But the blonde persisted, not convinced. "Not yet Parkman. Your captain says you've taken the exam to advance to detective three times?"

He sighed. Dammit, where was she going with this? "Right."

"You really think you're detective material?"

Was she asking him because...no, there was no way. "Yes, ma'am. I do."

"How does that make you feel? Flunking out so many times."

Way to kick a man when he's down. "I don't know. Embarassed, I guess, a little angry."

"A little angry?" she repeated, and it was not in a good way.

"Yeah." He cringed. He saw where this was going.

"Angry enough to do something about it?" she continued. "Maybe set yourself up to look like a hero?"

He was appalled. Was she implying what he thought? "Wait...what, you think I killed these people? I didn't kill these people, Sylar did."

Her eyes fixed on his, confused and glaring. _How did you know that name?_

"How did you know that name?" she repeated. "Six people assigned to this case know the name of Sylar. How the hell did you know that?"

Well, that was an easy one, he thought. From the kitchen. "I heard it. From you."

_Like you heard the little girl whisper._

"Yeah," he replied.

"Then hear this one." And then all of a sudden, cuffs were around his wrists.

"You're under arrest."

...

PETER AND NATHAN PETRELLI  
MID-TOWN, MANHATTAN

Peter sat on the edge as Nathan reached the rooftop. He was relieved to find his brother, but still he couldn't help the lurch his heart gave when he saw his baby brother so close to the edge again.

"I've been looking all over for you," Nathan told him.

"Did you know about Dad's depression?" Peter asked him, catching Nathan off-guard.

So Ma had told him. "Yeah."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Peter asked.

"Because everyone's entitled to their own secrets, Peter." Nathan gave a wry smile.

Peter gave a bitter laugh, swinging his legs against the side of the building. "I was so sure when it happened. Now it just turns out...I'm going crazy."

Nathan watched as Peter stood, and his heart quicked, his breath hitching. This couldn't be happening, Peter wasn't going to...

"Look, hey..." Nathan tried to coax while trying to keep his heartbeat down. "We've been through this before. We've played this game, okay? Let's just...let's just go."

Peter looked at him, his back toward the city, and his feet only a few steps away from the edge. "Tell me what happened, Nathan. When I jumped. Tell me you flew. I wanna hear you say that you flew. Tell me or I'll jump again."

_No...Peter, don't do this. They could be listening in, they could be-_

Peter took a step back. "Hey, good luck on your campaign...when I'm splattered all over the ground below."

_I can't lose my brother, not another goddamn family member. _

"All right, you want to know the truth?" Nathan asked. "We both flew. Pete...I caught you, and I lost control. You were too heavy. We both started falling to the ground and just before we...we hit, you flew."

Peter was skeptical, he could tell. "Are you lying to me?"

Nathan shook his head, but he knew Peter didn't believe him.

"You are," Peter continued, stepping toward him. "You're trying to tell me what you think I wanna hear. You're lying to me again!"

As Peter stepped closer, Nathan noticed something off. Peter seemed taller...Nathan looked down, and his eyes widened. He looked back up at his brother and pointed to Peter's feet.

Peter was floating a few feet off of the ground. Peter looked down at his own feet, and once he realized he was actually flying, he dropped all of about two feet to the ground.

Nathan was speechless. Was Peter like him, too? Whatever _this_ was, he _had_ to make Peter understand that he couldn't say anything. Was it genetic? Well, there was no way in hell he would go to their mother about this. She was the least likely to know or care about superpowers or whatever it was, and would probably want to exploit them in some way. And if Peter had it... did that mean Gabriel had it too?

Peter grinned, and enveloped Nathan in a hug. "Did you see that? Did you see that? I flew!"

"I know, Pete," Nathan said, happy yet worried. "I know."

...

HIRO NAKAMURA  
ISSAC MENDEZ' STUDIO - THE FUTURE

"Your buddy says he hasn't seen you for five weeks," Detective Furakowa told Hiro, after speaking to future-Ando on the phone.

Hiro looked at his watch.

MO 10-02  
11:52

"October 2?" Hiro asked the detective in English, confused. He had just seen Ando earlier!

"October 2?" the detective repeated incredulously. "No, pal. November 8th."

The detective handed Hiro a newspaper, filled in English symbols. His knowledge of the characters was limited, but he could read the date in the upper right hand corner.

NOVEMBER 8.

Suddenly, there was a rumble outside. Hiro turned to look, seeing a bright light of an explosion, then the dark gray mushroom cloud. Glass shattered, and the cloud was getting closer and closer...

Hiro shut his eyes and concentrated.

And suddenly, he was back on the subway in Tokyo again.

...

_For all his bluster, it is the sad province of man that he cannot choose his triumph.  
He can only choose how he will stand when the call of destiny comes.  
Hoping that he'll have the courage to answer._

* * *

A/N: Boo-yah! I am done!:D

I guess getting hit with strep or whatever it is (they don't really know yet) was like a blessing in disguise. I've been watching my Heroes season 1 & 2 all for the past three days, and my muse has returned. I shall keep updating!

**Really important poll:** Do you guys want me to write the whole Peter/Simone/Isaac thing?

Cuz, I mean, I really don't care for Simone all that much (although I do love Isaac and want him to be happy) but I feel that if Simone and Peter sleep together **(next episode)** then it will end up the same way. Honestly, I like Isaac too much and want to keep him in 'my' version of Heroes. But I'm not sure in actuality Gabriel's presence would affect Peter's decision to sleep with Simone, unless for some reason Peter had to leave with Gabriel instead.

**And please: do not just say 'it's my story and my decision.' **Honestly, I don't mean anything bad by it, but I really base my decisions on your opinions, and I really want you guys be happy. That's what makes me happy: D

So please review. XD


	4. 1x3 One Giant Leap

A/N: Hopefully you guys liked that last chapter. It sucks now because as I had had the Prologue-Collision as back-ups, I only had to make corrections. Now for some reason everything from One Giant Leap upward is gone, and I have to type the words I haven't changed. It's nothing big, but it takes more time. Oh, well.

Anyway. Thanks to all my viewers/alerters/favoriters/reviewers, especially **yaoiFan080**, **amy-the-rat**, **Sikanda**, **Sweet Samantha**, **TJtrack99**, **Kim**, **BloomingSparrow**, **ame**. You guys are awesome!

**POLL RESULTS:**_Thank you so much_ for your input about the whole pairing of Simone/Peter stuff. I really hate Simone, but I'm gonna make her a little less...bitchy, and give her the benefit of the doubt by keeping her with Isaac...but NOT Peter. (But, as Heroes goes, people could always...die off. *evil smirk*) If you guys want, that is.

So I've been home sick with something since Monday (okay, Tuesday, technically because of President's Day) so I've had a lot of time to catch up on this. Hopefully if I stay home tomorrow I'll have the next one posted (this one) and it'll make up for not updating so quickly before.

As I explained before (before I revamped the story, for any of you new readers) I'm not putting all the scenes with the others (I.E. Hiro & Ando, Nikki, Micah & D.L., Claire & HRG, all of Parkman, etc.) because they have not been affected by Gabriel/Sylar just yet. They would be redundant otherwise. I put in Parkman's scenes last ep. because he had a brush with 'Sylar' as Molly's killer. I feel like I'm doing a '_Previously on Heroes_' right now. :D

And I know in one scene I kinda make Peter come off as a bit of an a-hole. But, actually, in the first couple episodes, he _does_ seem that way sometimes. But we all know he's just playing around. :D

Anyway. Without further ado, here is the next episode! (Elle reappears!)

* * *

_When evolution selects its agents, it does so at a cost.  
It makes demands in exchange for singularity.  
And you may be asked to do something against your very nature.  
Suddenly, the change in your life that should've been wonderful comes as a betrayal.  
It may seem cruel, but the goal is nothing short of self-preservation.  
Survival._

**One Giant Leap**

Gabriel had spent the last twenty minutes putting the last finishing touches on the office. He was just finished with the plants (aesthetic to the eye, and said to increase productivity, release stress, and give off a feeling of tranquility) when there was a knock on the door.

It was probably Elle, his new client as of Monday. He had yet to discover the 'illness' or any severe problems with her, but she was persisting on seeing him, and something told him that she hadn't been wholly truthful when she told him what the real problem was. There was something odd about her, and the way she was acting, as if she was hesitant to tell him something.

"Come in!" he called as he placed a small potted plant on the window sill.

The person who came in, however, was definitely not the pretty blond woman he was expecting. Instead, he saw his fraternal twin. "Peter, what are you doing here?"

His brother didn't answer, rather just walked in, looking around. It occured to Gabriel that Peter had never visited the office in the six months he was here.

"Nice place you have here," Peter said as his gaze travelled over the furniture, stopping at one particular object. "I've seen that before. Isn't that from the old house?"

"Dad gave it to me before I moved out," Gabriel answered, looking at the antique grandfather clock. "One of the only gifts he ever gave to one of us that didn't involve something in return."

Peter crossed the room, sitting on the nice leather couch. "It's hard to believe he's gone sometimes. I'm still expecting him to just walk right in and start with his whole 'best for the family' schemes."

"I wouldn't put it past him."

There was a pause as both brothers exchanged glances, and then looked at the door, expecting it to come true.

Gabriel cast a sidelong glance at his brother, unsure of what to say next. He made his way toward his office chair, sitting down. "So, Peter...what can I do for you?"

"I know Nathan asked you to see me and I know you're hesitant-his words," Peter began. "But don't worry, I'll save you the trouble. I'm here to see you."

"Peter, you don't have to-"

"He's our brother, Gabriel. We have to look out for him, too." Peter shrugged. "And honestly, I don't care. I'd rather be talking to you about this than some stranger. No matter what you say, you _know_ I'm not crazy. You saw it." He paused, giving a half-smile. "Plus, now you have one more client."

"You don't seem very upset about this," Gabriel observed.

"You're right," Peter smiled. "I have proof. Kinda. Last night, I flew."

Gabriel nearly dropped his pen. "You..."

"Okay, not _flew_ but I hovered. By myself. Nathan saw it happen." Peter seemed excited about this, as if he were getting an early Christmas present. "I tried this morning. Nothing big, but nothing happened."

"This whole flying thing," Gabriel began. "What's going to happen? What are you going to do about it, Peter? You can't go around telling the world about this, especially when your brother's career is on the line. You yourself said we have to look out for each other."

"I don't know," Peter admitted. "Yet. But I just...I need to find answers. Know what's going on with us. Gabriel...aren't you at least a little bit curious?"

_'Know what's going on with us…Us?'_

The words echoed in Gabriel's mind. It left a hollow feeling in his heart, like a blow to the face.

What _exactly_ was going on with _him?_

So far as he could tell, it was only Nathan and Peter who showed any signs of...whatever it was. Flight.

They were special...but Gabriel wasn't.

Was that why Gabriel was refusing to believe it when he was with Peter, but believed it in his heart? Was it out of petty jealousy that maybe Peter and Nathan were meant for something great, but Gabriel would be stuck in a normal life? That perhaps he and Peter didn't share _everything_ and that they were so contrasting to one another?

It scared Gabriel to think such things.

Gabriel sighed at his brother. "Yes, Peter. But you can't just go chasing after a dream."

"It's not just a dream, though, Gabe," Peter insisted. "You _saw_ it. This is real. Look, I went to the library to see if I could find anything on human flight. Look."

He dug into his carrier bag, one almost identical to Gabriel's, and took out a thick book. _Activating Evolution._

He opened it at a bookmark and began to read. "'_Genes determine obesity, blood pressure. Out of the thirty billion possibilites, one might contain the potential for human flight.'" _Peter looked up at Gabriel._ "_This guy knows what's going on. Chandra Suresh. He's a genetics professor in India. I called. They said that he quit six months ago. They think he's _here, _in New York. We gotta find this guy._"_

It seemed beyond coincidence that he would be here in New York. "Suresh?" Gabriel repeated. "I think I've heard that name before. Tell you what, Peter. I said I'd give you two days, and I'll even help you find him. But until then...for all our sakes can you not say anything about this?"

There was a knock on the door, inturrupting whatever Peter was going to say.

A familiar blond head poked in through the door, smiling.

Gabriel smiled at her. "Elle. Hi." He looked at the digital clock resting on the desk, and nearly slapped himself on the forehead. 3:23. "You're 3:00 appointment! I'm _so_ sorry!"

"It's no problem, Dr. Petrelli, I..." She trailed off as she saw Peter sitting on the couch. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you had a patient."

Peter shot a look at Gabriel, giving him an amused smile. Peter turned around and stood up, walking toward her. "No, it's fine. I'm Gabriel's brother. Kept him longer than he wanted to. You know, taking a tour of the office."

"That's fine," Elle told him, then turned back toward Gabriel, giving him another uncertain look. "You know what? I'll give you guys a minute, you know. I don't want to intrude. It was nice meeting you-"

"Peter."

"Elle," she introduced. She gave another smile before exiting the office, closing the door softly behind her.

Peter gave an amused look at his brother.

"What?" Gabriel asked, mocking offense at the expression on Peter's face.

"You like her."

Had Gabriel been drinking something, he would have sputtered it out in a comical way. "I do not! She's a _client_ of mine, Peter."

Peter stuck hands out as if in defense, a playful smile on his face. Gabriel and Peter _always_ liked to tease each other about women, no matter how true it was. "Whatever."

"Peter-"

Peter shrugged. "Gabe, I know you. _You_ might not know it yet, but you do. You should ask her out. You going to Nathan's fundraiser tonight?"

"Yes, and I'm not going to ask out a _client_, Peter," Gabriel shot back. He honestly wasn't sure if Peter was kidding or not.

"You should," Peter told him. "If not...maybe I will."

Gabriel studied his brother. It seemed as if there was some new confidence in him that Gabriel wasn't sure he liked. It was different...cockier. But it was also potentially a sign of recklessness and danger.

"What brought this on?" Gabriel asked. "I thought you still liked Simone?"

Peter shrugged. "Not really. She's got Isaac. Besides...I'm quitting today."

"What?" Gabriel asked, taken aback by surprise once again. "Why? I thought you loved your job."

"It's not where I'm supposed to be," Peter replied, now completely serious. "It's-it's not what I'm supposed to do. And the truth is? I've been trying to save the world, one person at a time. But I'm meant for something bigger, something important. I know it."

"You're really set on this, aren't you, Peter?"

"I'm a part of something, Gabriel. You, me, Nathan...all of this means something. We just gotta figure out what."

"You always were the most stubborn, Pete," Gabriel said fondly. "But...whatever you do, just be careful, okay? You might be getting into something much bigger than you realize."

Peter nodded. "I will. Thanks, Gabe. Look, I better get going. You still gotta see _Elle."_ He gave an amused smirk, to which Gabriel rolled his eyes in reply.

Peter stood up, and Gabriel followed suit. "Come any time, Peter. You're always welcome."

Peter stuck out his hand, which had a check in it. "Here. Gotta make it look official-"

"Peter, there's no way I'm taking money from you. You're family."

"I wouldn't be much of a client if I didn't give you something," Peter argued.

"And I wouldn't be much of a brother if I took your money," Gabriel countered.

"Just take it," Peter insisted, shoving the check into Gabriel's palm. "It's Nathan's money anyway. Part of Dad's fortune. Just for a little while."

Gabriel once again knew he had lost the battle with his brother. After all, the records _had_ to be legit. "All we did was talk."

Peter smiled as he walked toward the door. "Maybe that's all I need. Someone to talk to."

And with that, he walked out.

Gabriel smiled, taking a moment to place the check in his pocket. Then he took out a small notepad, got up and walked to the front office.

He saw Elle sitting in a chair, going through her phone, perhaps texting. She looked so normal...she was still a mystery to him.

She looked up, catching his gaze. She got up, following Gabriel into his office.

"So," Gabriel began once he and Elle both sat in their respective seats. "What can I help you with?"

...

MOHINDER SURESH & EDEN MCCAIN  
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

Mohinder heard a scrape of keys against the door, and the click of the door opening as he was typing on his father's laptop, trying to decipher the information on the flash drive. Alerted, he grabbed the small handgun off the table and aimed it at the door as it opened.

Eden walked in, a casserole dish in one hand, and her keys in the other. She held her hands up as much as she could, hearing the cock of the gun.

Mohinder put the weapon down, relieved, as she smiled at him apologetically. "Sorry. I still have your dad's keys. Maybe I shouldn't."

"No, sorry," Mohinder apologized as well, putting the gun back inside the desk drawer. He was becoming frustrated with himself, and with this seemingly useless project. "After everything that's happened, every noise I hear...sorry."

Eden walked toward him, uncovering the casserole dish. He had to admit, she was a pretty good cook. He gave her a lot of credit for sticking around for so long. He knew he wasn't being the greatest of company at the moment. "It's macaroni and cheese. It's what Americans eat when they want to committ suicide slowly."

He smiled, and then turned back to his work as she put the dish in the kitchen. "Your dad said mine was the best he ever had, but he was from India, so-"

"Thank you," Mohinder told her with a smile. "You're very kind."

She walked back out, approaching him, taking in his appearance. She frowned. "You look like hell. When was the last time you slept?"

_A very long time_, he thought. It must've been at least four days now. But he decided against telling her that. It would only make her worry more. "All this work...I'm no closer to understanding my father's research."

"What about the program on your dad's computer?" she offered. "Didn't you say he cracked some code?"

"I thought he had," Mohinder replied. "But the algorithm...it's gibberish." He stood up, walking over to where the map had once been, feeling a wave of frustration. "You know, if I could find even one such person, it would validate everything my father has spent his life working on. But I can't."

"Your father seemed to have a lot of faith in you," Eden told him sincerely.

"My father only cares about proving himself right," Mohinder snapped, beginning to pace the living room frustratedly. "He left his country, his family, chasing this insanity. And now I'm wasting my life doing the exact same thing. Where did it get me?"

He picked up the laptop and threw it across the room. Eden jumped, running to get it.

"Mohinder!" she called, shocked at his actions.

He put his hand to his eyes, rubbing them. "I'm sorry. I'm just so tired."

He turned to Eden, who was silent. She was crouched by the laptop, holding a small notepad that had been hidden inside the laptop somewhere. Curious, Mohinder knelt next to her, taking it as she handed it to him and he rifled through it. He stopped at a page, seeing a now-familiar name.

_SYLAR_  
_1146 TRENTON PLACE, APT 118_  
_QUEENS, NY 11011_

"Sylar," he mumbled.

Was this Sylar the one sending him these visions? Or was it this Lilith, the woman on the phone with his father? Who was the one responsible for the dissapearance of his father? And _where was his father?_ All these questions, he seemed like the answers were much closer than ever.

He felt an irregularity in the notebook, and flipped to that page. There was a key stuck in it.

"What is it?" Eden asked, looking at him.

Mohinder held up the key. "Yet another question."

...

MATT PARKMAN  
FBI HEADQUARTERS - LOS ANGELES

Matt leaned forward in the interrogation chair, giving a frustrated sigh. He had been talking to the blond agent, Agent Audrey Hanson, he had learned, for almost two hours now, repeating the same story countless times.

_He _didn't even know how it happened. So how could he be able to help _them_ understand?

And, of course, on top of things, he was extremely late for his couples' therapy meeting with Janice.

"I don't know how else to explain this," he started. "I heard a little girl call for help. I went to her. That's _all_ that happened."

He knew they were watching, listening to him on the other side of the glass, taking notes. They all probably thought he was crazy.

Of course, right now, he would rather them think him crazy than a serial killer.

"So you just waltzed right in, found a kid hiding in a wall, and then pulled the name Sylar out of your ass when only a handful of us know that name," Agent Hanson stated.

"It's like-it's like _someone_ talking to me," Matt began. "Except only it was in my head."

"Did the voices tell you anything else?" Agent Hanson started boredly and yet very condescendingly. "They want you to do things? Rob a bank, kill the president?"

"No," Matt told her. "It's like...I can hear people's thoughts. Or something. I don't know."

She walked over to him, scrutinizing him, a slightly amused look in her eyes. "Can you tell me what I'm thinking right now?"

"No," he replied, seriously, with a frustrated sigh. "I can't control this. It just...happens."

She rolled her eyes. "Give it a shot, Carmac. I'm wide open."

He didn't even have to try to know. "You think I'm nuts. Or stupid."

She sighed, not buying it. "Great trick. Stop wasting my time."

He leaned back, frustrated, wishing he could hear _something_ to get her to believe him...

_Come on, Parkman. I need this more than you do. Nobody believes in me._

He looked at her, knowing she didn't verbally say it. "Nobody believes in you. I know what that's like."

Her expression changed, and she turned back toward the observation room. Matt sighed, rubbing his face, tired and frustrated.

"How much longer do I have to be in here?" he asked.

"Depends," she replied. "How would you like to work with the FBI?"

He was taken off-guard by her question. He nodded.

She believed him.

...

GABRIEL PETRELLI & ELLE BISHOP  
GABRIEL'S OFFICE, BELLEVUE HOSPITAL - NYC

"So," Gabriel began once he had situated himself into the office chair. "What can I help you with?"

Elle smiled, nodding toward the door. "I didn't know you had a brother."

Gabriel could tell she was stalling, but he wouldn't call her out. If she wanted to talk about something that was really bothering her, she would do it at her pace. He wouldn't rush her.

He gave a light chuckle. "Yeah, Peter. He's...he can be a handful sometimes."

Elle gave a shrug. "Only child." She looked up at him again. "Older or younger?"

"Neither actually," Gabriel replied. "We're fraternal twins."

She looked shocked. "That's cool. You guys close?"

He was taken aback by her bold question, and she noticed, and immediately reproached her question. "I'm sorry. That was-"

"No, it's fine, Elle," Gabriel insisted. "You're here as a patient, telling me most things you wouldn't tell others. It's only fair you can ask questions about me if you want to." He saw a small smile. "Yeah, Peter and I are...very close. He's my best friend."

The smile never left her lips. "You are something else, you know? Most psychiatrists are usually so...cold."

He felt himself smile back at her before he realized. She had a pretty smile. Peter's words returned to his mind.

_You like her_.

He most certainly did not. She was a patient, he her doctor. And other than the fact that she was pretty, sweet and that she smiled _a lot_, he knew next to nothing about her personally.

Damn Peter for putting thoughts in his head.

"So, yesterday we started to talk," Gabriel began, his voice professional. "You mentioned something about...being special."

He glanced at the notes he had written about Elle yesterday. He had his own way of taking notes, labelling them into two categories, "F" for facts, such as the number of siblings, history, etc., and "P" for personal things, such as feelings, fears, etc.

_F: __  
Mother-died early, cause unknown-untouched  
lives with father-untouched  
no known siblings_

_P: __  
feels "special; different from others"-untouched. Beginning to scratch surface  
fear of flying—planes—untouched. Flying—going on a plane-soon._

Elle sighed. "Well," she began. "It actually started about six months ago."

He wrote down _'six months' _on the notepad a few spaces down from the last line, drawring an arrow to line that mentioned the topic.

"What happened?" he asked, noting her silence.

She took a deep breath, biting her lip. "I-It's kind of stupid. I mean, I just moved back to the city after finishing college. I grew up here, and left for five years. And coming back here...it just feels the same. I look at everyone and wonder 'what did I really change?' And...I think-I think I'm meant for more."

Gabriel stopped taking notes, instead looking directly at her. She seemed to almost be echoing what Peter had been saying. Was this perhaps a sign that something really _was_ going on, not just with Peter but perhaps something even bigger?

_"You might be getting into something much bigger than you realize."_ The exact words he had said to Peter earlier.

The two sat in silence for a good minute, Elle seemingly immersed in her thoughts as well.

This was starting to get _way_ too close to home for Gabriel's liking.

Pen in hand, he turned toward Elle again. "So, let's talk about your fear of flying."

...

MATT PARKMAN  
FBI HEADQUARTERS - LOS ANGELES

It seemed like they had been walking through the hallways forever.

"You wanna tell me why I'm still here, or am I just gonna follow you around?" Matt asked Agent Hanson impatiently.

"I need you to talk to her," she replied. "Find out what she knows."

"Talk to who?" Matt asked as they turned down yet another hallway, one that looked identical to the last one, and the last one before that.

"Molly Walked," Agent Hanson replied. "The little girl you found. We're keeping her here, where it's safe, until we can figure out what to do with her. She's been through a severe trauma. Both parents murdered right in front of her. She hasn't said a word since we brought her here."

"What makes you think she's gonna talk to me?" he asked her.

"If you're really a mind reader, she won't need to," Hanson replied, opening the double doors into another hallway.

"Who is this Sylar?" Matt asked. "What's he doing?"

"We've pieced together a trail across a dozen states," Hanson began. "All people impaled by household objects. Bones broken. All without any traceable sign of physical contact. But only some of them involve any mutilation of the head or neck, so they don't see the connections."

"You think it's all him," Matt stated.

"I think it's gonna get a lot worse if someone doesn't go after him."

They stepped into another hallway, the flourescent lights overhead flickering.

"We're keeping her in a safe room down here," Hanson explained.

A scream ripped throughout the entire level-a little girl's scream.

Hanson took out her gun and began to run though the double doors and down the hallway, Matt following behind.

"It's him," she said. "It's Sylar."

At the end of the hallway, a large hooded figure was dragging the girl-Molly-out of the room. She was screaming and fighting him. Hason cocked her gun.

"Freeze!"

The figure looked up and let Molly go, perhaps figuring the girl would be extra weight in order to evade the gunshots if Hanson fired. He had sunglasses on, Matt noticed vaguely, and he wondered how the man could see. The man took off, disappearing after turning a corner. Hanson ran after him and Matt began to follow when he passed an agent pinned to the ceiling by a chair, not dead but unconscious.

He knew that Molly would be unprotected, and that Sylar wanted her, and would try get to her. If he left now, there wouldn't be anything to stop that man from coming back in here to finish what he started.

Matt knelt down to check on Molly and see if she was all right. She looked scared and was shaking violently. "Hey," he said calmly. "Hey, remember me?"

She didn't say anything, only looked at Matt.

He felt so sorry for her. The girl had been traumatized enough to watch her parents both brutally murdered. And now that same man was back to do God knew what to her. She was just a kid, maybe only eight or nine.

"It's okay," he reassured her. "It's okay. No one's gonna hurt you, honey."

_How could he find me?_

"That doesn't matter," Matt told her. "You're safe now."

The girl stood up and hugged Matt, catching him by surprise.

Distantly, he heard Agent Hanson yelling and opened his eyes. "Look, I'll be right back, Molly, okay?"

The girl nodded and let him go, understandably a little reluctant. He could tell that she knew that he had to go fight off the man who had murdered her parents, this Sylar. He ran, following the path that Agent Hanson had taken.

When he reached them, he saw Hanson thrown against the wire mesh, holding her gun to her own head, trying to struggle with...nothing. Something big was happening.

Matt took out his own gun and fired consecutively at the man. The hooded man, presumed to be Sylar, fell to the ground. Hanson was dropped to the ground as well, and began to gasp for breath, holding her neck. Matt rushed to her side.

"You okay?" he asked

Hanson nodded. Then, looking behind him, her eyes widened. Matt turned around, seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, and he knew it was Sylar getting up, even though the man had been shot nearly six times.

And in almost a blink of an eye, Sylar was gone.

MOHINDER SURESH & EDEN MCCAIN  
QUEENS, NEW YORK

Mohinder knocked on the apartment door.

"Mr. Sylar?" he called. "Hello?"

No answer.

"Shh," Eden held a finger to her lips, then motioned for him to use the key. Her voice was at a whisper. "What are you actually gonna do if Sylar's in there?"

Mohinder took the key out of the notebook and began to put it in the lock. "If Sylar is involved with my father's disappearance, I need to know." The key didn't fit. "I suppose that would've been too easy."

"Let's go," Eden said, looking uneasy.

"No," Mohinder told her, stopping her. "All the answers could be behind this door."

He took out a screwdriver out of his bag, one that he had taken just in case the key didn't work. He was grateful that he did.

"It's locked, and I'm kinda trying not to freak out right now," Eden was saying, her voice raising nearly an octave. "So can we _please_ just go?"

He ignored her, jamming the screwdriver into the doorframe and lock, and pryed the door open. He turned to her and signalled for her to come in.

"Or we could just break in." Eden sighed and followed him.

Inside the apeartment, everything seemed to ripple, a familiar sensation: Mohinder was seeing another vision again.

_The Mohinder from the vision put the screwdriver back in his bag and took out his digital camera. He began to snap photos of the apartment. He snapped one of this father's books which was laying on the counter, _Activating Evolution._ He was surprised at how neat everything was._

It was odd, the real Mohinder thought as he watched the vision. He could actually _feel_ what the other him was feeling, as if he were there himself. He followed the other him to another room.

_The other Mohinder saw a curio, and raised him arms to take a picture of it. As he did, however, his elbow bumped into a mirror behind him, and it opened to a passageway._

Then, the whole vision seemed to disappear. Once again, Mohinder was sure it was a sign, sent from someone who wanted him to find Sylar.

Mohinder walked toward the mirror where the passageway had been in the vision, and curiously pushed it. Sure enough, the mirror opened to the secret room.

He called Eden over, and together they walked in.

The room was dimly lit, and Mohinder could see a map, very similar to his father's.

"Oh, my God," Mohinder breathed, nearly speechless.

"That map, those strings...it's exactly like your father's," Eden observed.

"Sylar," Mohinder repeated. "That name sounds very familiar. I wonder whether he was working with my father before his disappearance. But this map has dozens more than my father's."

Eden pointed to a picture of a man, who Mohinder vaguely recognized. "I know that guy. He's running for Congress."

"His life may be in danger," Mohinder told her. He was getting a very bad feeling from this room.

"Can we go yet?" Eden asked, her voice higher than normal.

"Not yet," he replied, seeing a plastic partition further through the room. He pushed it aside, and once again, everything rippled.

There was writing all over the wall, crazy handwriting. In large red print in front of him, it read: FORGIVE ME. And in smaller print, all over the walls, again and again, were the words: FOR I HAVE SINNED.

"Mohinder?" Eden called, and Mohinder blinked.

The room returned back to normal. It was gone, the walls bare.

Mohinder turned to leave, when a single yellow Post-It note hanging on the wall caught it attention, contrasting with the wood of the walls. He peeled it off and read it.

His eyes widened with horror.

_You're not ready yet, Mohinder._

_..._

MATT PARKMAN  
PARKMAN RESIDENCE - LOS ANGELES

When Matt opened the door, he saw that Janice was there, sitting on the bed. She was working on her laptop, with various files spread around her. He could tell she had not been thinking he would be coming home.

"Hey, you waited up for me," he greeted. "Look, I know I missed our therapy session."

"It's fine," Janice replied curtly, and Matt knew it was everything but fine.

"No, it wasn't," he protested, watching as she began to put the files back into her bag. "I'm sorry. I was supposed to call you, and I meant to. I had the craziest day today. You would not believe what happened to me. It was so strange and it was amazing and-I don't even know how to describe it."

Then don't."

"That's it?" Matt began. "That's it. You waited up all this time so that you could tell me that you don't want to talk to me?" She stood up. "I'm really trying, Matt. You know, this marriage may not mean anything to you-"

"What?" He was taken aback by this statement. "If does. Of course it does. What are you talking about? I have a lot of stuff going on right now."

"So do I," she told him. "It was supposed to be a good thing when I made associate, and you were supposed to be happy for me. But ever since, it's like you're mad at me for getting what I wanted, because you haven't."

Matt didn't know what to say to that. It was a low blow. "I don't mean to be. It's just-it's just hard."

_I can't do this anymore. I just wish he would leave._

Janice's voice cut through everything, like a sharp dagger.

"Fine," Matt told her, turning around to the door. "I will."

He left, slamming the door behind him.

...

GABRIEL & PETER PETRELLI  
CAMPAIGN HEADQUARTERS - MID-TOWN, MANHATTAN

Peter made his way over to the open bar, sitting down on a stool. Vaguely, he noticed the people on either side, both men in black suits, the one to his left huddled over his drink. He nodded toward the bartender. "Scotch."

"Isn't that more your brother's drink?" asked a familiar voice, who Peter saw as the man curled over his drink.

Peter cracked a light smile, taking the glass of scotch from the bartender. "My brother doesn't drink."

Gabriel turned toward Peter, showing the vodka tonic, nearly full. "I beg to differ."

Peter was just about to ask how many his brother had, when he took a closer look. No, he wasn't drunk; the light that was gone from his eyes meant something else.

"What's wrong? Elle have a boyfriend?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "She's just a patient."

Peter cracked a smile, determined to cheer his other-half up. "Uh-huh."

Gabriel took a sip of his drink. "Nathan can be an ass sometimes, you know?"

"He's our brother," Peter replied. "It's kind of his job."

Gabriel paused. "I've been thinking, Peter, you know? I really believe you."

"What brought this on?" Peter asked with a slight smile.

"Just... a lot of things are happening with the world. Things no one can explain. Maybe this is one of them."

Peter smiled, which Gabriel returned.

Gabriel opened his mouth to continue, but another voice cut through the entire room over the speakers.

"Excuse me, excuse me," Nathan's voice cut through. Everyone turned to him, seeing him holding the microphone.

"I'd like to apologize for the rain. If you elect me, I promise I'll try to do something about it," he began, eliciting laughter from the audience. "I'd like to welcome you all here, on behalf of my family, my entire campaign staff."

Nathan's voice became more serious as he continued. "I'm sure that you know my brave wife would be here by my side, were she able. The life-altering event of my father's death is really what prompted me to run for Congress. My father hid a deep depression-an illness, really-up until the day he died. His loving wife, his attentive children, his loyal friends-we all knew about it, and yet he suffered alone."

Peter knew where Nathan was going with this. Nathan had told him earlier that there was a reporter after him...this had been his plan all along. Peter's hand clenched around his drink.

"As many of you might have read, my brother Peter had an accident. But what I have kept from the press thus far is that Peter barely survived a suicide attempt."

Peter caught Gabriel's worried look, meeting it with an angry glare. Nathan looked over at Peter, as did Angela Petrelli. Peter was frozen as Nathan continued.

"My first instinct was to keep his illness hidden. But no one should suffer alone. Because we're all connected somehow."

Peter took one last gulp of the scotch, nearly downing it, before slamming it back on the bar and got up.

"Peter!" Gabriel called out, but Peter ignored him and disappeared from the room.

Gabriel sighed, then stood up and walked toward Nathan.

Peter would be back soon.

...

MATT PARKMAN  
BAR - LOS ANGELES

Matt was at a bar, sitting down. He didn't usually go out to the bar; it was the only place he could think of that was open so late, since he had left the house.

The bartender approached him. "How you doing?"

"Well, I, uh-"

_It's a rhetorical question. Just say 'fine' and order a drink._

"Uh, fine," Matt answered. "Whatever you got on tap."

The bartender walked away, and began to fill his order.

_Do I have time for another one?_ Came a man's voice, who Matt could see was at the other end of hthe bar. _I donn't want to go home to that shrew. She's sucking the life out of me._

Boy, couldn't he relate.

The bartender gave Matt his drink, and he raised his glas at the man at the end as if in a salute_What's he looking at? Barking up the wrong tree, pall._

Matt rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his drink. He looked around, seeing a man and a woman sitting at a booth.

_What am I doing here?_ The woman's voice whispered. _Am I that desperate?_

She looked so happy, smiling. Anyone on the outside would probably guess that she was really into this guy.

_She is diggin' me,_ the man sitting across from her thought. _I am in for sure._

This was beginning to be entertaining. This was what people really thought, their true selves. It was amusing.

He turned around, looking at a woman at the bar who was stirring her drink. _What if I just disappeared? Would they care? Would anybody care? Would someone notice I was gone? Would anybody care?_

He felt sorry for her, but then began to scan the crowd again.

Thoughts faded in and out, not really seeming interesting.

He tried to focus on a dark-skinned middle-aged man who wore a suit and an odd necklace.

And then...

The thoughts stopped.

This made him nervous.

Why wasn't it working anymore?

He picked up his drink, downing the contents quickly. This wasn't right, anyway, hearing people's thoughts. He didn't want to know these things about strangers, random thoughts about people he had never met.

He decided to go back. Maybe Janice was asleep now.

He stood up, but suddenly the room began to spin. His vision was getting blurry and he was starting to feel dizzy.

And, shortly after, he passed out

...

PETER PETRELLI  
OUTSIDE CAMPAIGN HEADQUARTERS - MANHATTAN

Peter saw Nathan as he was on his way to the garage, surrounded by his entourage. Rage bubbled within him, the speech that Nathan had given resurfacing.

"-he turns around to the other one and says, 'Holy cow, a talking dog'-" Nathan was telling his joke.

Peter grabbed Nathan by the collar and punched him in the face. "You son of a bitch!"

And suddenly, Peter was pinned against the garage wall by Nathan's security.

"Peter!" he heard Gabriel yell, and vaguely, Peter saw him standing next to their mother.

"Let him go," Nathan told the security and they did. "Easy, Pete. That's our mother you're talking about."

"There was no reporter on my story!" Peter spat.

"Yeah, there would've been eventually," Nathan told him, his voice calm and even. "I had to take control of things before something happened. Do you under-"

Peter saw red and punched Nathan again, and the security pulled him away.

Nathan brought his hand away from his nose, where Peter had hit him. "You get it, right?"

Peter glared at him, backing away. "Yeah. I get it."

"Good man," Nathan said, and turned back to his entourage.

Peter turned and left, heading out to the streets in the prou rain.

Gabriel glanced at Nathan, who caught his eye. Nathan nodded, and Gabriel ran after his brother.

"Peter!" Gabriel called out in the pouring rain. Peter ignored him until Gabriel caught him by the shoulder. The taxi Peter had hailed pulled up. "Peter..."

"You knew about this, didn't you?" Peter asked, glaring at the bar. "Nathan...when you were at the bar. This was what you were talking about."

Gabriel shook his head. "I didn't know what he was going to do, Peter. Honestly. I'm sorry."

"Whatever," Peter said, turning his head away toward the taxi. "I've got to go."

"Peter," Gabriel said, stopping him by the shoulder. He inspected his brother's face. "God, Pete. You're bleeding."

"Am I?" Peter asked curiously, bringing a hand up to the cut to see. He didn't feel anything. "Gabriel, you _know_ I didn't trying to kill myself."

Gabriel gave a sad smile. "I know, Pete." He paused. "Look, I'm gonna stop by your apartment tomorrow. We'll figure this all out, okay?"

Peter nodded.

"Come here," Gabriel said, enveloping his brother in a tight hug. "I love you, Peter. You're my brother. I don't want to see you get hurt."

Peter smiled, breaking off the embrace. "Thanks, Gabe. I...I better get going."

With that, Peter turned, climbing in to the taxi.

Gabriel smiled, hoping or the best for Peter.

A distance away, a white van sitting on the curb.

A pretty blond woman was sitting in the back, surrounded by surveillance screens. She was wearing a beautiful sparkling blue dress, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Why didn't you let me go?" she whined. "I've never been to a party like that."

The other occupant of the van, sitting patiently in a chair while watching the surveillance screens looked through his horn-rimmed glasses. "Orders are orders, Elle. They want the interaction to be contained to only one place."

"Tch, yeah right," Elle replied. "Then can we go home? I _hate_ the rain."

"If you don't stop complaining, I'll send you out there myself," the man told her, without a trace of humor or bluff in his voice. "We've got work to do."

"Don't you have a kid to go home to?" Elle asked, malice in her voice, but after that kept silent.

A few seconds passed by in silence.

"We've got movement," the man stated, watching one video intently.

"Is it him?" asked Elle, her eyes widening with nervousness.

"I can't tell," replied the man. "But whoever it is, we're too close to let them go. Wait here. I'll start the van."

As he stood up and climbed toward the front, Elle paused, looking at the screen.

She smiled, and it was anything but sweet.

"We've got Sylar."

...

_This force, evolution, is not sentimental.  
Like the earth itself, it knows only the hard facts of life's struggle with death.  
All you can do is hope and trust.  
That when you've served its needs faithfully, there may still remain some glimmer of the life you once knew._

* * *

A/N: Surprised you with that last bit, didn't I? :D

Please, tell me how you liked it. I know, I've been using a LOT of Gabriel/Peter scenes. I just can't get enough of them as brothers. :D

As for the Simone scene, I figured that Peter would notice Gabriel by the bar and talk to him, and he would never see Simone at the party because of that. Therefore she wouldn't see him at the end and Peter wouldn't sleep with her. She will still be with Isaac as I said before, because I want to give her the benefit of the doubt, but if you guys still hate her as much as I do then we can all kill her off together. XD

**Important poll: **What pairings would you like me to incorporate in here as the story progresses?

As Heroes goes, there are multiple pairings throught the seasons. Which would you guys want to see? I would prefer **NO** slash/cesty pairings (I'm not against it in any way-acually, Paire is my OTP, but I just don't think it would go with the whole plot, as I want it to seem like it would be something they would show on TV) I'm up for anything.

There will be others, and Sylar is beginning to make an appearance. Who do you think it is?

I would love it if you guys predicted. It equals love.


	5. 1x4 Collision

**Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears: **(A/N is starting to get so redundant. :D)

Anyway. Thanks to all my viewers/alerters/favoriters/reviewers, especially **BlueDragon007**, **Cat Yuy**, **yaoiFan080**, **Kim**, **Ecrub**, **BloodySparrow**, **cookie**-**monster101**, **Tera Earth**, **Ace**, **amy-the-rat**, **Lindsey**, **Lottie Dot**, **Lara**-**Van**, **Vullina**, **Faithfulwriter**, **the white winged angel**, **Kathryn Shadow**, **RuByMoOn17**, **ame**, **Psychomech**, **rtwofan**, **JordieFan**, **azab**, **Hazgarn**, **evie**, **White-Tigers-of-Darkness**, **Maiqu**, **BreatheMeDeep**, and **dragonwitch250**. You guys are awesome!

And a very special thank you to **Cherryblu** and **BreatheMeDeep**, for both wondering if I'm gonna get my lazy butt into gear! (well, it wasn't quite worded that way, but it did the job!) All your reviews helped me get my inspiration back!

**Poll Note: **Okay, I guess I must've worded it wrong, looking back. :D I actually meant  
"I would prefer **NO** non-canon slash or cesty pairings." It took me forever to realize what you guys were talking about in the reviews, till I looked back at the last AN and realized I forgot one very small and important word lol. I do love Paire and slash, but honestly, I don't see it fitting into the plot of this version of Heroes. However, by popular demand, there might be **_slight _**Paire, seeing as how there's some kind of chemistry behind them in the show (ahem, the pregnancy scare) But I feel that putting any kind of romance in there that may be 'controversial' (at least in the noncanon sense…ahem, Claire) would just detract from the plot of the story, much like it would on the real show.

Sorry about that.

**2/09/10**: OMFG! I AM *SOOO* SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE THIS…I WAS LOOKING BACK OVER IT AND I SAW THAT I WISHED YOU GUYS A HAPPY GROUNDHOG DAY...A YEAR AGO! I'D GIVE YOU GUYS THE WHOLE STORY OF HOW I LOST THREE FLASH DRIVES, THE WRITTEN COPY AND HOW EVERYTHING WAS COMING UP CRAP…BUT I THINK YA'LL'D RATHER JUST READ ON.

Anyway. Here's the next chapter.

* * *

_Sometimes questions are more powerful than answers.  
How is this happening?  
What are they?  
Why them and not others?  
What does it all mean?_

...

**Collision**

...

**Previously:**

_"We've got movement," the man with the horn-rimmed glasses stated, watching one video intently._

_"Is it him?" asked Elle, her eyes widening with nervousness and anticipation._

_"I can't tell," replied the man. "But whoever it is, we're too close to let them go. Wait here. I'll start the van."_

_As he stood up and climbed toward the front, Elle paused, looking at the screen._

_She smiled, and it was anything but sweet._

_"We've got Sylar."_

...

OUTSIDE PETRELLI CAMPAIGN HEADQUARTERS – MANHATTAN

As the engine roared to life, Elle watched the man on the monitor. His features were blurred by his baseball cap and popped collar, and the rain distorted the rest.

She wasn't sure this man was the one, but he might be a start. After all, his appearance and general stature fit the description of Sylar.

She saw their own van inch into the surveillance camera that they had earlier placed on top of the streetlight, and the man was oblivious to either. Or at least she hoped he was.

She felt rather than heard the van's driver door close, and she knew that it was her partner. He wasn't going to wait for her, so Elle hurried out of the van as fast as she could, nearly slipping in her stilettos on the slippery metal threshold in the process.

Her heart began to race with anticipation. She knew that this man might not be 'the one', but The Company had spent so much time tracking Sylar that anything was better than nothing. And, if it was a dead end, she could at least have some fun with the man and unleash all her anger and frustration of this whole night on him through thousands of jolts of electricity.

Hurrying out in the dreadful rain, she walked as stealthily as she could to meet her partner, who was standing on the sidewalk. She knew that the rain would probably cover up whatever noise her heels made, but if this man was in fact Sylar she couldn't take any chances.

"Is it him?" she asked her partner, coming to a halt next to him.

Her partner gave a slow smirk, one that sent shivers down Elle's spine. "Let's find out, shall we?"

And with that, he took a few steps toward the man, and placed a hand on the man's shoulder to turn him around.

Elle's heart was racing and she couldn't help the anticipatory smile that spread across her face. Her fingertips tingled, either from nervousness or from the electricity coursing within her dying to unleash itself in all its glory.

The man turned around, and she took in his startled features.

Let the games begin.

...

_He was on the rooftop again. He looked down, seeing his brothers staring up at him, as if they were waiting for him to come down._

_He walked to the ledge, about to begin his descent, when he heard a telephone begin to ring._

_He turned toward the noise, and spotted a payphone nearly a foot away from him, hanging on the concrete of the rooftop's wall. He was sure that it hadn't been there before, and why would it be ringing now, of all times?_

_He cast a glance back at his brothers, unsure of himself._

_They were gone._

_He turned his attention back to the ringing phone, and stepped away from the ledge. Hesitantly, he picked up the phone._

_"H-hello?" he answered, his voice sounding distant and detached from his body._

_"Peter?" Nathan's frantic voice was unmistakable. "Thank god. It's Gabe. He got locked up for stealing again. But…look. I can't fly down to bail him out. Not this time. He's your psychiatrist now."_

_"Nathan, what—what's going on?" Peter asked, trying to catch up with what his oldest brother was saying._

_"He really wants to see you, Pete," Nathan responded, annunciating each syllable. "Can you go there?"_

_And suddenly, the scene around Peter changed. He was now standing in a brightly lit corridor of what looked like a hospital…the psych ward._

_He wandered down the hall, looking at the doors on either side of him. They were small cells. Each had a plain-colored metal door, with a small thick rectangular window at the top._

_In the first cell was Isaac and Simone. Isaac was painting the mural of the explosion while Simone was staring at Peter, though she looked as if she were in a trance._

_Peter continued past, seeing a young blond teenage girl who wore a red and white shirt as she lie beneath the covers of the bed, reading a comic. She looked bored. She looked up, and upon noticing Peter, she brightened and gave him a friendly wave, as if she knew him._

_He continued on, passing more people he didn't recognize, until he reached his destination. The cell at the end of the corridor._

_He didn't know how he knew that Gabriel was inside; the cell was pitch black. But he just knew_,_ and tentatively he turned toward the door and pushed it open._

_The cell was not like the others; instead, Peter was now standing inside Gabriel's psychiatric office. Gabriel was sitting in his office chair, a notepad on his lap, and his thick black reading glasses perched on his nose._

_"Peter," he smiled. "Come in. We've been expecting you."_

_"We?" Peter asked, looking around the room. Standing next to the grandfather clock was Arthur Petrelli, smiling coldly._

_"Hello, son," his father greeted in his thick New York accent. "We've been waiting."_

_And in seconds, Arthur raised his arm, and Peter was sent flying across the room, pinned to the wall by an invisible force. Gabriel stood up, and began to walk slowly toward Peter. He smiled, and it was a smile that sent shivers down Peter's spine._

_"I've been waiting a long time for this," Gabriel said, raising his hand up, his index and middle fingers pointing outward. "Brother."_

_A loud screaming noise deafened Peter's ears, and all at once his forehead felt on fire. As the blood began to pour down his face, he realized what was happening._

_Gabriel was slicing off the top Peter's skull…without even touching it._

...

PETER PETRELLI  
PETER'S APARTMENT – MANHATTAN

Peter woke up startled, sitting upright with a jolt. He was breathing heavily, and his entire body was in a cold sweat.

He began to replay his dream—or whatever he could remember, as most of it had already faded away—and the only bits that stuck out to him were the rooftop, something about cells, and…

Gabriel.

The evil smirk that Gabriel gave him was something that he could see with clear precision. He was sure that he would _not_ be forgetting that any time soon.

He saw the sunlight filtering through the curtains, and glanced at the alarm clock resting on the nightstand. 10:47. He decided it was time to get up.

He climbed out of bed with a quick stretch and a yawn, and began to rifle through his drawers to find a decent outfit to wear. As he began to dress, he heard the door buzz.

Quickly, he hurried out to the living room. As he finished putting on his shirt, he looked through the peephole.

He rolled his eyes, the anger from last night coming back full force. He opened the door, seething. "Nathan."

"Peter."

A mess of black hair came into view behind Nathan. "Gabriel?"

Gabriel walked up to the open door, taken aback by the scene. "Nathan?"

Nathan looked as equally confused. "Gabe?"

Gabriel looked between the two brothers, reading their tension. "Look, you guys are in the middle of something…I can come back."

"Stay, Gabriel," Peter ordered, not taking his eyes off Nathan. "What is it?"

"I'll wait inside, Pete," Gabriel told him awkwardly, assessing the situation. He walked past Peter, gently placing a hand on his shoulder as he walked inside.

Nathan sighed, and reluctantly continued when Gabriel was out of earshot. "You buddy Suresh came by my campaign office this morning. Made a big scene, talking about mind-reading and spontaneous regeneration."

"Chandra Suresh?" Peter asked, incredulity and indifference evident in his tone.

Nathan gave a slight glare, then nodded. He was extremely irritable, Peter could tell. "Yeah."

"How'd he find you?" Peter asked, anxious to end this conversation and talk to Gabriel.

Nathan shoved something into Peter's chest. He took the item from his older brother, looking at it. _Activating Evolution_. "You tell me."

Peter narrowed his eyes, offended. "What, you think I called him?"

Nathan's lip twitched into a slight smile, the equivalent of rolling his eyes. "Don't insult me. I've got trained professionals to do that."

Peter didn't crack a smile at Nathan's attempt of a joke. An awkward pause fell over them.

Not wanting to be kept any longer, Nathan reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out an envelope. "Look…here's some money, all right? Take it. You want answers, go find them. It's on me. I need you to disappear for a while, okay? You're a liability."

Peter looked from Nathan to envelope, disgusted. He turned his back on his oldest brother and shut the door in his face, leaving Nathan standing in the hallway.

Inside the apartment, Peter leaned against the door with a heavy sigh.

He didn't like fighting with Nathan like this; the three brothers had been inseparable for a long time. That was, until Nathan started to get so wrapped up in his political career. Peter didn't like the way Nathan was treating his family to further his political agenda, and he wasn't going to be Nathan's puppet and let Nathan walk all over him.

Peter turned around, looking through the peephole. Nathan was gone.

Pushing all thoughts of sibling rivalry with Nathan aside, Peter turned to his other brother, who was sitting on the couch, his white Mac laptop sitting neatly on the coffee table as he stared at it intently.

Gabriel looked up at Peter with mild concern, as he gently closed the Mac. "Everything okay?"

Peter smiled, trying to suppress the urge to roll his eyes as he thought over the conversation with Nathan. "Yeah, great. What's up?"

Gabriel stood up, slinging his black messenger bag over his opposite shoulder so that the strap ran across his chest. "Actually, I wanted to stop by before class, see if you were all right. I know everything that's been happening lately has been stressful, and last night probably didn't help at all."

Peter gave a sarcastic smile. "Worried I'm gonna jump off the Empire State?"

Gabriel's eyes narrowed, unamused. "That's not funny, Peter."

Seeing Gabriel's expression, Peter deflated. "Sorry. Guess Nathan didn't put me in a good mood."

Gabriel nodded understandingly. "Nathan seems to have that effect on a lot of people lately."

Gabriel started to approach Peter, and Peter immediately was reminded of a similar action. From his dream.

The evil look…

Peter involuntarily took a step back from Gabriel, which Gabriel caught. He stopped midway with a sigh, and Peter couldn't help but feel a little guilty. It was just a dream, after all…maybe if he just explained it to Gabriel, he could give some sort of explanation of what it meant.

However, as he opened his mouth to speak, his mind registered the book in his hands. Chandra Suresh. This man was the one who would know what was going on with them. And Gabriel would finally believe him.

_Two days._

Gabriel's words from when he had visited Peter in the hospital echoed through his mind. _That's today_, Peter realized. _This is my last chance to prove what really happened._

"Two days," Peter mumbled, looking down again at Suresh's book. Then, to Gabriel: "Hey, Gabe. Does your offer still stand?"

...

OUTSIDE PETRELLI HEADQUARTERS – MANHATTAN

"Hey, dude, what the hell?" cried the guy as Bennet shoved him against the wall, his hand wrapped tightly around the guy's throat.

Elle frowned. The man's voice seemed too…_regular_ to be Sylar. Not deep, menacing, or even slightly charming as she had expected. In fact, this guy's voice seemed young, inexperienced. Weak.

"We know who you are," Bennet snarled through clenched teeth. "_Sylar_."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" the man protested. "Here—here's my wallet, take everything!"

As he dug into his pockets, his baseball cap shifted upward and to the side. He had dull gray eyes, and dark bangs that poked out from beneath the cap. His nose was long and crooked, his lips thin.

Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she looked down to see the man throwing the contents of his pockets to the ground. A wallet, some change…this guy thought they were mugging him!

She crouched down as much as she could as she was still wearing a dress—albeit one that was thoroughly ruined—and picked up the wallet, to see the man's identity.

And as she did, everything happened at once.

As explosion triggered, and she went deaf. Everything sounded as if it were underwater. She saw Bennet soar backward toward the street, his glasses falling in the opposite direction. She turned her head, seeing the guy fleeing down the street.

She knew she was going to pay for this later, but she had no other choice. Not when they didn't have a positive ID on the guy.

Concentrating with everything she had, she let the blue lightning free from her fingertips, unleashing the electricity at the man.

However, the rain was not letting up, and though she tried to fight it, the pain the water was causing her was unbearable, and she couldn't keep up. Her power was useless.

As she crumbled to the ground, she felt little sparks zapping her all over. She once again failed an assignment. The man was getting away. Now she would have to go back to being locked up again for God knew how every many years…

A loud gunshot caught her attention, and she turned and saw Bennet firing a black tranquilizer gun. Looking back at the fleeing man, she saw him fall to the ground, unconscious.

"Load him in while I pull the van up," Bennet told her coldly, picking up his glasses and putting them back on. "You can at least get _that_ right."

Elle sighed, standing up. She hated letting them down; she wanted to prove that she was useful, and that she deserved to be out on the field more. She wanted freedom, and the only way out was by doing things right.

As she began to step toward the unconscious heap that might be Sylar or at least a lead, she silently hoped that this could be her lucky break.

...

GABRIEL & PETER PETRELLI  
NEW YORK CITY

Gabriel groaned as the subway came to a stop, fixing the strap of his messenger bag which was sliding down for the umpteenth time. "Remind me why I'm missing class just to find a guy who may or may not be crazy."

Peter glanced over at the passengers who were getting off at this stop, spotting a pair of empty seats and gesturing to them. They had been standing for nearly an hour, and seats on the subway were a rarity in New York. The two quickly headed over to the seats as more people filed in.

"Because. He wrote this book, the book that explains everything. I think he knows the answers to…" He trailed off, looking around conspiratorially, then lowered his voice. "…to what happened on that building. And because I want to prove to you that I'm _not_ crazy."

"Right," Gabriel muttered sarcastically. "Because my opinions these days are _so_ important it seems. Why didn't you ask Nathan to meet this Suresh guy instead? If anyone needs reality to slap him in his right-wing face, it's him."

"Your opinion _is_ important, Gabe," Peter told him. "And besides…Suresh visited Nathan this morning in front of everyone at his office. That was why he came by this morning."

"I get it," Gabriel rolled his eyes. "I'm just the second choice. Glad to know that you think of me first, Pete."

Peter gave him an odd look of incredulity. "What're you talking about, Gabriel? We shared an embryo for nine months. You can't get any closer than that."

Gabriel cracked a smile, wanting to avoid a potential fight. Where was a Starbucks when he needed one? "You're right, Peter. I'm just caffeine-deprived is all."

Peter playfully nudged him. "Truce?"

Gabriel nudged him back, something that they always used to do as kids. "Truce."

There was a long pause as Gabriel looked out the window. He was worried where everything was going right now. Something was happening, and he didn't know if it was for better or for worse. One thing he _did_ know, they were getting in way over their heads.

"So," Peter began, breaking Gabriel out of his reverie. "What class are you missing?"

"Children psychology." Gabriel smirked, looking to his brother. "Sibling rivalry."

...

MOHINDER SURESH  
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

"I feel like such an ass," Mohinder said as he began to hang up various clippings, recreating the map that he had found in Sylar's apartment. "I've never been so humiliated in my life."

The door shut as Eden entered, carrying the mail. "Well, what did you expect: him to invite you in for tea? Here. I picked this up on the way in."

He took a stack of envelopes, quickly filing through them.

Between two pieces of junk mail, a small thin envelope fell to the ground. Mohinder picked it up and examined it.

"What is it?" Eden asked, walking over to him.

"It's for me, but there's no return address," he observed, opening it carefully. He took out the contents: a CD or DVD in a jewel case with no label of any kind written on it, and a small ripped piece of paper. It was in his father's handwriting, through the letters were sharp and frantic.

_FIND HIM._

There was a knock on the door. Both he and Eden looked at the door sharply.

"We're looking for Chandra Suresh," called a muffled male voice through the door.

"He doesn't live here anymore," Mohinder told the man, still alert for the fact that the man at the door might be one of the people coming after him.

But the guy persisted. "The guys at the Petrelli campaign office gave me this address. They said he came by this morning."

At the sound of the name, Mohinder walked hurriedly to the door, opening it. There stood two men, looking at him questioningly.

The one on the left had jet black hair, short and gelled in messy spikes, his arms crossed, wearing jeans and black t-shirt, a black messenger bag slung across his chest.

The other man was more lean than the first in build and also slightly shorter, with hair that wasn't quite so dark, longer in length with bangs that hung off to the side, with wide yet confident eyes.

"You Chandra Shuresh?" he asked Mohinder.

"No," he told them. "That is my father."

The first man—the one with the messenger bag—spoke up, looking to the other as if telling Mohinder to pardon the shorter one for his rudeness. "I'm Gabriel, and this is my brother Peter."

"Mohinder."

Peter didn't beat around the bush. "Look, your father wrote a book about people with abilities. And…I think I might be one of them."

...

UNKNOWN LOCATION

_"LET ME OUT OF HERE!"_ shouted the man, pounding his fists on the glass window of the cell.

From the observation room, Bennet and Elle watched him. Elle turned toward Bennet. "You really think it's him?"

Bennet watched as the man curled his fists, then unleashed a powerful force at the window, with no luck. Those windows were specially made.

"We can't be sure of anything at this point," he told her in his usually cold voice. "But if anything, we at least got one of _them_."

Elle looked back toward the man. He didn't _fit_ the part of Sylar, that much was pretty obvious. But then again, she read the file on Sylar. Manipulation, false identities. And if or when the victim realized who they were dealing with…well, they weren't called victims for no reason.

She turned back to Bennet. "He seems to be showing only one ability, though. Isn't Sylar supposed to have many?"

Bennet didn't look up from the paperwork he was signing. "It might be a trick, Elle. Don't be so gullible."

Bennet drove Elle nuts. He always talked to her as if she were a child. A part of her felt sorry for his daughter, who was supposedly around her age. He probably treated her the same way. Still…it was better than how her own childhood went.

A cell phone began to ring, and Bennet took it out of his pocket, flipping it open. "Bennet."

Elle continued to watch the man, who was frantically pounding on the walls, using his power in vain. Newcomers were so amusing.

"…he's a special…We don't have any confirmation yet. He seems unwilling to talk…should we try other methods?...you're sure?...I don't' think…I understand."

He flipped the cell phone shut. Elle turned around, curiously.

"You're up," he told her, and she could see that he didn't totally agree with this.

"What?" Elle asked him, wondering if she heard right.

"Extract what you can out of him. Use any methods necessary," he told her emotionlessly.

She couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips as she looked back at the man.

Without a word, she exited the room, and began to approach the man's cell.

Her fingers tingled with blue electricity.

Finally. She would get to have fun.

...

MOHINDER SURESH, EDEN MCCAIN, GABRIEL & PETER PETRELLI  
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

"Either he's crap house rat, as in 'crazy as' or…he's one of them," Eden whispered to Mohinder as they stood in the hallway.

"All he's telling me is that he really can't do anything," Mohinder told her frustrated.

"His brother seems to be putting a lot of faith in him, though," Eden reminded. "He even claims to have seen something. And he's a licensed psychiatrist."

"And that's about _all_ he's said," Mohinder snapped. "Something tells me he wouldn't be willing to risk his license on this claim. Which could mean either he values his job more, or—"

"He's only playing along for his brother's sake," Eden finished. "But even if that _is_ the case…don't you want to follow the smoke and see if there's a fire?"

They headed back out to the living room, where the two brothers were waiting on the couch. Gabriel was typing on his white laptop, and Peter was looking around the room with his arms crossed expectantly. When Peter saw the two walk in, he stood up.

Eden stuck out her hand, which he shook. "It was a pleasure to meet you both."

"Yeah," Peter replied.

"You too," Gabriel replied politely as she shook his hand as well. "Thanks."

"Good luck with the whole flying thing," she told Peter as she turned around to leave.

"Thanks," he replied.

Eden placed a hand on Mohinder's shoulder before she left as if a sign of good luck, then exited the apartment.

Mohinder sat down in a chair, and the two followed suit, resuming their previous seats. "So, when you're with your oldest brother, you can fly and when you're with the artist…"

"Isaac, yeah," Peter said. "I only met him once, but after…I drew the future."

"And now you can't do either," Mohinder said simply, frustration and fatigue edging in his voice.

Gabriel spoke up sharply, detecting the negative and cynical tone. "I saw it happen with my own eyes," he said defensively, which elicited a surprised look from Peter. "my brother's not crazy."

Peter shot another quick glance at his brother, before turning his attention back to Mohinder. "Maybe I can only do things with people who can…do things." He paused. "Did that sound as lame as I think it did?"

Mohinder sighed. "It sounds like you should be talking to my father."

Peter leaned forward. "Well, where is he? How do I get a hold of him?"

Mohinder gave a wry smile. "I'd like to know that myself. He's missing."

"I'm sorry," both Gabriel and Peter said in unison, in the same sympathetic tone.

"But…" Peter continued, pointing to Chandra's book that he was holding. "You believe that this is possible. You have to. I mean, you believed it this morning."

Mohinder sighed. Did he really believe in all that stuff he had told Nathan Petrelli? He wasn't sure. But he remembered the photograph and knew that someone out there believed in it. Whether or not it was true, Mr. Petrelli was still a target, and the danger seemed as real as any. However, looking back, it all seemed to be all just folly on Mohinder's part.

"Look, what if I prove it to you?" Peter persisted.

"Then prove it," Mohinder replied, on the edge of snapping at the man.

"We'll go see Nathan. When I'm around him, I can fly. I've done it before. Twice."

"Fine, let's go see your brother." He was definitely not looking forward to this.

"Peter," Gabriel reminded him. "He's in Vegas."

And the other shoe dropped. "Of course he is."

"Fine then…we'll go to Isaac's. But it's…it's complicated."

Mohinder heard Gabriel give a sigh, one that was not unlike his own. He turned to look at Peter. Apparently, there was a third shoe that would be dropping. "Complicated how?"

...

ISAAC MENDEZ & SIMONE DEVAUX  
ISAAC'S STUDIO – LOWER MANHATTAN

Simone entered the loft, looking for Isaac. She knew he was in here, but she still tried to prepare herself for whatever mood he would be in now.

"Isaac."

Crossing the room, she found him at his desk, his sketchbook in front of him. But he wasn't using that at the moment. In fact, it looked like what he had been _using_ was being rolled up. Figured.

She bit her lip, trying to steel herself from the sight. Begging and pleading only got her so far. Now, it seemed tough love was the only way to help them both.

He took the long band that he used when he…_used_, and tied it around his head, not looking up at her. "Paintings are by the door."

She hated seeing him like this, but there was nothing she could do anymore. She was beginning to reach the end of her rope. She turned around and made her way back toward the door, seeing a few paintings. She looked through them. All familiar, made months before. The ones he discarded.

"I thought I was buying the new pieces."

He looked back at her as he stood up. "I need the new pieces."

She turned around to face him, her look cold. "Because they tell you what's gonna happen in the future?"

No matter what she had told Peter, or what she really thought of his paintings, there was no way she would tell him that there was a possibility that she believed him. If she did, he would only keep shooting up, and things would only get worse. She couldn't allow that to happen.

"How much for the old paintings?" he asked, an edge in his voice.

She kept her voice firm. "To tell you the truth, Isaac, I don't know if I could sell those."

He laughed at the irony. "So you only like the ones I painted when I was high. Interesting."

She snorted, seeing what he was trying to do. He was trying to pick a fight. Again.

"You won't give me an advance?" he asked her.

"That depends," she told him. "What're you gonna do with the money?"

"I need painting supplies," he told her, and her anger once again bubbled to the surface.

"I take it you're not talking about oils and canvas."

He turned around, toward where he had been 'working,' ending the conversation.

She looked around the studio, shaking her head in disgust and regret. She could remember the times when they first were together and he was an aspiring graphic novelist. Money was always tight, as he politely refused to take the money her father offered. Sometimes it was tough, but they were always happy together. Before the drugs.

As she scanned the room, her eyes caught sight of a painting. Rain in the background, at night time. A small crowd of people, all dressed up, and all shocked. Two men in the center, one angrily in the middle of throwing a punch at the other.

She recognized the scene immediately, because she herself had been in that small crowd last night, as a friend of the family.

The painting was of Peter slugging Nathan.

"What's this?" she asked him accusingly. "You followed me?"

Isaac turned around, following her gaze. "I drew this seven weeks ago. I drew him there—" He pointed to another painting, one of a man who looked like Peter falling off a building, his coat flapping behind him. "—and here before I ever met the guy."

She was shocked at his words, but it was still a lot to take in. "You can't keep doing this, Isaac. Following people around like this. It's insanity. You need help."

"Help." He gave a hollow laugh. "You're over here, worried about _me_ needing help and this entire city's gonna go—"

He made a deep rumbling noise, mimicking the explosion in his mural.

She wasn't amused at this at all.

He continued. "—unless I stop it."

"You think you can save us all by shooting up?" she asked him, disgust evident in her voice.

He looked at her sincerely. "I can save everybody."

She was done hearing this. She turned and walked away, picking up her bag and nothing else before she left.

Isaac looked down at the mural on the floor. The city was in ruins, the mushroom cloud from the explosion flaring in deep orange and red. He gave a smile, knowing he was the only one who could stop it.

He would be able to save lives, and finally make up for that girl who died at his art exhibit.

"I'm going to be a hero."

...

MOHINDER SURESH, PETER & GABRIEL PETRELLI  
NEW YORK

Peter, Mohinder and Gabriel were all riding the subway, standing.

"I've only met him the once," Peter explained. "But…maybe I ought to do the talking to start with. He's…heh, kind of a heroin addict."

And there was the third shoe. "Heroin addict? You neglected to mention that."

"You've been nothing but skeptical since we knocked on your door, Mohinder," Gabriel defended his brother. "You can at least hold off until you meet him."

"The default scientific position is skepticism," Mohinder retorted. "As a licensed psychiatrist, you of all people should know that."

At the familiar glare in Gabriel's eyes, Peter broke in. "Your father managed to get around it. I don't know, he took a pretty big leap. Gotta respect that."

Mohinder relaxed a little. Or, at least, he and Gabriel unlocked their mutual glares. Something about that man sent off signals in his mind. He didn't like it. "I did more than respect it. I believed him. I had to. I was his son."

"Can't be the only reason why you believed him," Peter said.

"Look at what's happening to our planet: overpopulation, global warming, drought, famine, terrorism," Mohinder started, and for once he felt slightly relaxed, as this topic reminded him of his home back in Madras, before all of this started. "Deep down, we all sense something's not right. My father always talked about how an entire species will go extinct while others, no more unique or complex, will change and adapt in extraordinary ways. He had a romantic take on evolution."

"What about you?" Gabriel asked Mohinder. "You're a geneticist, too."

Mohinder gave an ironic smile. "That is also evolution. We're all just variations of the last model."

Peter and Gabriel shared a look, and, as they both gave an identical smile, shared a thought as well.

"Yeah," Peter said. "Cheap knockoffs of our fathers."

...

ISAAC'S STUDIO – LOWER MANHATTAN

Isaac knew he had to do it. It was the only way he could save himself, save the city. When they were saved, he would get clean. But first, he had a mission.

He hurried to a blank canvas and rested it on the easel, then brought over the tray of oils toward him.

Next, he hurried over to the small pile of cloth, unraveling it. Doing the necessary steps, he took the heroine-filled needle and injected it into himself.

He blacked out.

...

_Isaac was on standing on the rooftop, watching the scene below. It was nighttime, the air warm._

_A scream came from his right, and he turned to see a corridor, with a red banner that read HOMECOMING hanging over it. The scream sounded again, and a young blonde cheerleader raced out of the corridor, into the empty room below, looking behind in fear._

_She ran toward the steps of the auditorium, but tripped on the second, falling over in a heap. She struggled to get up, as a shadow loomed over her…_

_..._

MOHINDER SURESH, PETER & GABRIEL PETRELLI  
NEW YORK

Isaac's was a bust. Peter had called and knocked, but it didn't seem like he was there. Either that or…

"What if we went back tomorrow?" Peter asked Mohinder, who still looked on-edge.

Mohinder sighed, looking over to Gabriel. He seemed just as put out by the outcome as he was. "Look, I'm not trying to discount your experience. It's just a week ago I was in my own country, a respected professor. Now you want me to stalk a heroin addict who allegedly…paints…the…future…"

The train went dark, a total blackout. And, not only that, but Mohinder seemed to freeze, as if he were stuck…

"Mohinder?" Peter asked, waving a hand in front of Mohinder's face. He then turned toward his brother. "Gabriel?"

Everything seemed to stop on the train, even the train itself. The passengers' faces were frozen in place, and there was no sound. It seemed like something out of _The_ _Twilight Zone._

"Gabriel!" He called, tapping his brother's shoulder lightly. No budge.

He frantically began to walk to the end of the train, looking for a way out. Whatever the answer was, it didn't seem to be in here.

He tried prying open the door. No luck. He gave a frustrated groan as he couldn't figure out what was happening to him.

As he began to make his way back to Gabriel and Mohinder, a noise startled him. It was a loud bang that seemed to come from above the car.

Peter hurried back to the two, and it seemed as if the noises followed him as well. Footsteps.

He something behind him, a presence. He slowly turned around, and his heart sank in alarm.

Behind him, stood a Japanese man dressed in black, a sword behind his back. And he was definitely _moving_.

"Peter Petrelli," the man said, his voice lacking an accent.

Peter recoiled from the man, taking a step backward in fear. Whoever this man was, he seemed to be powerful. And, not to mention, he knew Peter's name.

"How is this happening?"

The man gave an apologetic look. "I'm sorry if I scared you. You look different without your scar."

_Scar?_ Peter was beyond scared now. This man was talking crazy…and who the hell was he anyway? "I don't know you, buddy."

"Not yet," the man said. "My name is Hiro Nakamura. I'm from the future."

_Future?_

"I have message for you."

...

TO BE CONTINUED…

* * *

**A/N:** Once again, I am SOO sorry for the long update! I promise I will start working on the next chapter as soon as possible! It's very hard because I am trying so hard to keep it to the script. Which means I have to copy the script (I watch it and type it as I watch it), edit it, AND come up with ways to change it to fit the plot, as well as writing the chapter.

It's pretty tough work.

Anyway. I hope you guys haven't given up on me! More to come!

**POLL: **Is there anyone, Hero, Villain, or Other that you would like to see me kill off or not kill off?

Assuming I have every single character who was ever on Heroes in this fic (I probably won't but I don't want to give away any plot) Any season, it doesn't matter. Just trying to get a feel of people's likes and dislikes.

For example, if you want me to kill off Angela, keep Adam, or even keep someone annoying and slight like Jackie the Cheerleader and kill off someone like Claire. It doesn't matter how big of a role they play, I'm just wondering for plot's sake.

Please review!

Predictions as always are welcome! 3


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